


Dreamer, Waker

by IzzyR0ckz



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Destroy Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Paragon Shepard (Mass Effect), Sort Of, Spoilers, a little nonlinear, just at the beginning, the romance javik deserved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-06-13 11:22:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15363534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IzzyR0ckz/pseuds/IzzyR0ckz
Summary: “Mommy says Uncle Kolyat’s daddy is over there.” Little Benezia says during lunchtime, when they’re sitting on Shepard and Javik's beach, eating sandwiches, "She says your friends and Uncle Javik's mommy and daddy are, too."“Over where?” Shepard asks, dabbing mustard off Benezia’s face.“There.” Benezia replies, pointing at the horizon, “Across the sea.” Oh.“I- yes, I guess they are.” She answers, soft, not sure what to do.“If they’re all the way over there, how do they know what’s happening here?” Benezia asks, eyes wide and curious.“I don’t know,” Shepard admits, “Maybe they don’t.” Benezia hums.“Then you should tell them.” She says decisively, “So they know.” And with that she's off to play in the water.Shepard stares out over the horizon, and thinks of them: Thane, Legion, Mordin, Ash, Anderson.“I never got to tell any of you, did I?” She realizes, “You’ve probably been dying to know how I managed to wind up here.” She watches Benezia play in the water, and thinks for a moment.“It’s… a bit of a story, I guess.” She admits, “Javik tells it better than I do, but…” She pauses, then begins speaking, as if the wind will carry her words across the waves.





	1. Prologue: Across The Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Me, basking in rarepair hell: It's actually quite lovely here if you get used to it, wonderful place for dying

            It’s a sunny morning, Rannoch’s star shining bright, when Liara touches down in the shuttle, toting little Benezia behind her.

 

            “Auntie!” She screeches, wiggling free from Liara’s grip and running full sprint into Shepard’s arms.

 

            “Hey, kiddo!” She grins, scooping Benezia up and twirling her, “What’s my favorite niece been up to?”

 

            “I pulled Uncle Feron with my mind like Uncle Javik taught me and made him spill his water!” She says, immensely proud, and Shepard laughs.

 

            “‘Atta girl, Nezzie!” She praises, rubbing their foreheads together, and Benezia actually manages to grin harder.

 

            “Do not encourage her.” Liara says in exasperation, “She’s going to be a menace when she grows up.”

 

            “She will be a fine warrior, worthy of respect.” Javik interjects from where he’s come out of the house to greet them, “She will wreak havoc upon all who would oppose her.”

 

            “As I said, menace,” Liara mutters, before shaking her head. “But that’s not why I’ve come. I brought some of my research to go over with you.” She opens the bag she has slung across her chest, filled to the brim with datapads on her archeological finds. “It will likely take all day, and both Feron and Kolyat are busy, so I had to bring her, I’m afraid. I don’t suppose you’d mind watching her, Shepard?”

 

            “You kidding, Liara? Nezzie and I are going to have the best time ever!” She replies, throwing Benezia in the air, “Now who wants to play tackle the varren?” Benezia cheers, and they both race off.

 

*

 

            “Mommy says Uncle Kolyat’s daddy is over there.” Benezia says during lunchtime, when they’re sitting on her and Javik’s beach, eating sandwiches, "She says your friends and Uncle Javik's mommy and daddy are, too."

 

            “Over where?” Shepard asks, dabbing a bit of mustard off Benezia’s face.

 

            “There.” Benezia replies, pointing at the horizon, “Across the sea.” _Oh._

 

            “I- yes, I guess they are.” She answers, soft, not sure what to do.

 

            “If they’re all the way over there, how do they know what’s happening here?” Benezia asks, eyes wide and curious.

 

            “I don’t know,” Shepard admits, “Maybe they don’t.” Benezia hums, thinking while she chews.

 

            “Then you should tell them.” She says decisively, “So they know.” And with that, she gets up and puts her hands over her head. “Dress off! I wanna go look for shells!” Shepard obeys on autopilot, wiggling her out of her green sundress, her bathing suit already underneath, and into the spare floaties they keep just for her visits. She bolts off as soon as she’s free, splashing in the waves and picking up anything that even vaguely resembles a seashell.

 

            Shepard stares out over the horizon, and thinks of them: Thane, Legion, Mordin, Ash, Anderson.

 

            “I never got to tell any of you, did I?” She realizes, “You’ve probably been dying to know how I managed to wind up here.” She watches Benezia play in the water, little arms already half full, and thinks for a moment.

 

            “It’s… a bit of a story, I guess.” She admits, “Javik tells it better than I do, but…” She pauses, then begins speaking, as if the wind will carry her words across the waves.


	2. Smoke And Mirror Images

 

            Talking to Javik, she finds, is remarkably similar to talking to a brick wall, or looking in a mirror. The same image, yet opposite, flipped 180, warped just so. For her every push, he shoves, for her every pull, he yanks, an endless circle of not-quite-the-sames.

 

            She talks with him whenever she’s able, even admittedly plays favorites with him when choosing teammates for missions, because she finds their similarities fascinate her. They are so alike, yet so different, in thoughts and experiences; even their fighting styles are perfect complements.

 

            He’s her mirror image, she thinks. Or, at least, she thinks it when she’s not exasperated by his ability to say the exact wrong thing at the exact wrong moment and look quite proud of the accomplishment.

 

*

 

            They butt heads.

 

            It’s no surprise, really. Their attitudes towards war line up in that they agree it’s a means to an end rather than a sport, and that’s about it. Where she would choose diplomacy, he would choose brute force. Where she would choose mercy, he would choose ruthlessness. Where she would choose patience, he would choose a strict zero-tolerance policy for time-consuming bullshit.

 

            Their opinions clash, and he voices his complaints often, but as time goes on there’s less malice in his words, less genuine questioning of her leadership.

 

            A tentative truce, a mutual respect, this is where it begins.

 

*

 

            “Had to be me.” Mordin says, and she’s five seconds away from saying _no, it really doesn’t_ before the elevator closes with finality.

 

            She walks out numbly, catching one flake in her hand as the shroud collapses, and hears the rover pull up. She turns, meets Liara’s questioning gaze, and gives a shake of her head. Liara’s face crumbles, and she rushes over.

 

            “Oh, Shepard, I’m so sorry.” She says, touching Shepard’s shoulder, and Shepard just looks away; Javik is silent.

 

            The ride back is crushing, and no one knows how to comfort her in the wake of losing such a close friend. Liara just holds her hand, for which she’s grateful, but it doesn’t do much to stop the hurt. Then, Javik speaks.

 

            “I told you, Commander, to mourn the loss of life in war is foolish. It is inevitable. You cannot-” And normally she can endure it, but she’s tired and mourning, and has no patience for him.

 

            “Not everyone can be as heartless as you, Javik.” She snaps, surprising everyone, “If you’d try thinking about someone other than yourself for once-” She’s cut off by Eve, who puts a hand on her shoulder.

 

            “Do not direct your grief at your companions, Commander, it suits you ill.” She says, “Mourn, and let the pain guide you to resolution; destroy your enemies and put the ghosts to rest.” Shepard does not reply, and instead, Javik seems to try again.

 

            “Commander I-” He’s cut off.

 

            “Enough from you.” Eve grunts, glaring at him, “Find the compassion in your heart to keep your cruelties to yourself.”

 

            For the first time, Javik actually takes the _shut up_ for what it is.

 

*

 

            She’s collected herself by the time they come to their destination, and Wrex promises to name a kid after Mordin. It seems like it’s more for her benefit than out of respect, but she doesn’t doubt Eve will hold him to it.

 

            Liara doesn’t let go of her hand until they’re back on the Normandy.

 

            Javik doesn’t say a word.

 

*

 

            _Mordin and Ashley’s words follow her, whispering, and the boy runs, just out of reach-_

 

*

 

            She doesn’t talk to anyone for some time after they return to the Normandy, even avoids Javik’s makeshift home in the cargo bay for once (which isn’t that hard, if she’s being honest), and takes her meals in her cabin. Liara gives her worried looks, Dr. Chakwas implies she should come in for a psych eval due to suspected poor management of grief, and Garrus drags her down to the battery to reminisce about Mordin and all his eccentricities.

 

            It helps, and it doesn’t.

 

*

 

            “Shepard,” EDI says into the silence of her cabin when she’s staring at her fish tank instead of writing up a report.

 

            “Yes, EDI?” She asks, grateful for the distraction.

 

            “It may be best if you speak to Javik.” EDI hesitates, “He has been… emotionally unstable as of late.” Shepard outright laughs.

 

            “When is he not?” She replies, raising an eyebrow.

 

            “He has been more unstable than usual.” EDI insists, “He has outright refused to talk to Liara on several occasions and made Ensign Copeland cry with some… choice comments.” Shepard rubs her temples.

 

            “Alright, I’ve got it.” She sighs, throwing her unfinished report on her desk and getting up, “Wish me luck.”

 

            “Very well Commander.” EDI replies, “Good luck.”

 

*

 

            She practices her speech in the elevator down. _I know you’re mad at me for getting mad at you, but really? Making an ensign cry?_ She figures that won’t get the desired result and decides she’ll just... politely wing it.

 

            She gets to the cargo bay, only to find it empty. Exasperated, she heads for life support, the place he goes when too many people visit the cargo bay for his liking. He’s staring at the ship’s core again when she gets there, silent.

 

            “Commander.” He grunts, not turning towards her.

 

            “How’d you know it was me?” She asks, walking over to sit in Thane’s old chair.

 

            “You are the only one who follows me here.” He says simply, before pausing, “Also, I could smell you.”

 

            “A good smell, I hope.” She raises an eyebrow.

 

            “Pleasant enough.” He replies, and they share an awkward silence.

 

            “Look Javik,” She sighs, “EDI told me you’ve been worse than usual, and I’m going to have to ask you to tone it down.” More silence, “You can’t go around making people cry, that’s ridiculous.” She adds, which actually gets him to turn to her.

 

            “I have done no such thing, Commander.” He answers, looking vaguely confused, and she frowns.

 

            “But EDI said-” She stops, then glares at the ceiling, “You know what? Nevermind.” She makes to get up, but he grabs her.

 

*

 

            _She is her, but not-her again, like on Eden Prime, staring at the world through Javik’s eyes. Except instead of staring at a world on fire, she is staring at… herself, surrounded by rubble, looking up at the sky with such an expression of vulnerability, it makes Javik freeze. No one says anything, as the cure floats down from the heavens, as the Shroud collapses, until she hears Liara apologize, and they all climb back into the vehicle._

 

            _She looks pathetic, sitting there pretending not to blink back tears, and she can feel the frustration and helplessness well up in Javik, can hear his thoughts:_ She should not look like this, today is a victory. She cannot let the deaths of others consume her, or there will be nothing left of her by the end, a shell that used to stand for righteousness, victory, and peace. Today, she should honor the salarian’s sacrifice, not allow it to crush her.

 

_Javik opens his mouth to say as much, and it is not until she snaps at him, fierce glare even through tears, that he realizes his words have been misunderstood._

 

*

 

            She comes back to herself with a gasp, feeling Javik’s hands slide off her arms, opens her eyes to see him hovering, hesitating.

 

            “You were… trying to comfort me.” It comes out as more of a question, surprise overwhelming any instinct to walk with tact here.

 

            “In my cycle, reassurances were conveyed through touch, emotions and memories shared rather than words. I am not… familiar with translating my thoughts in such situations.” He admits, and it sounds almost like an apology; another awkward silence fills the room.

 

            “I don’t mind.” She says finally, “If that’s how you prefer to communicate,” He seems slightly taken aback, but she forges ahead anyway, “It’s probably not a good idea in an active war zone, but otherwise if you ever feel the need to it’s okay. Just, maybe give me a heads up before you transfer memories? It’s kind of a lot.” She pauses hesitant, before adding, “It must be... isolating to have no one to connect with, in the future.” She examines his features, something like pain flashing across them before it’s smoothed out once more.

 

            “I do not require Connection, if that is what you are implying, nor do I appreciate the pity.” His whole body is tense, eyes narrowed in his usual ferocious glare.

 

            “I’m not pitying you, and I’m not implying anything. All I’m saying is, if there’s a quicker and more efficient way to do something, I’m all for it. And if you benefit, then great, but I’d mostly just prefer to avoid misunderstandings like this again.” She’s lying through her teeth, but if he needs the crutch she’s more than willing to give it. He pauses, then nods.

 

            “If you are certain, Commander.” He says, and she smiles.

 

*

 

            It becomes a… thing, after that. Basic emotions can easily and efficiently be transferred via what Javik calls Connection, with little more than a quick disorienting jolt as collateral damage, and even that she gets used to fairly quickly. If he is angered or annoyed by a situation, he will simply touch her arm to let her know, and only speaks if he feels the need to explain why. He can also transfer memories, though he rarely does so, still hiding behind walls so high they can probably be seen from space.

 

            It’s a… harmony, of sorts, they reach.

 

*

 

            If he reads anything from her during Connection he doesn’t mention it, and she finds she trusts him enough not to worry about it.; Garrus… does not.

 

            “Shepard, we don’t even know how this connecting thing _works_. For all we know you’re giving him unchecked access to your mind.” He insists, mandibles flexing in what seems to be distress, and she snorts.

 

            “Please, you worry too much. He’s doesn’t gain anything from messing with my brain.” She replies, her feet on his lap while she looks over a supply report, leaning back in her bed.

 

            “No, it’s definitely you who doesn’t worry enough.” He retorts, grabbing her feet and tugging her down so she collapses flat, “This is your _mind_ Shepard, and last time I checked having a foreign voice inside it wasn’t a good thing.” She glares at him, fighting to break her feet free, wiggling fruitlessly like a fish out of water.

 

            “His voice isn’t in my head, Garrus. He’s just sending his emotions, or memories sometimes.” She explains, giving up on escape.

 

            “Shepard.” He warns, and she snorts.

 

            “Vakarian.” She retorts, raising an eyebrow. He sighs, rubbing his temple.

 

            “Just… be careful, okay?” He begs, and she smiles.

 

            “‘Course, Gar-Bear.” She replies, breaking free of his hold and sitting up.

 

            “Still hate it when you call me that.” He mutters, but she just hugs him.

 

            “Well I’m not sorry, and I forgive you for your meddling.” She says easily, and he chuckles.

 

            “Fine, fine, dig your own grave. I’ll be here, ‘I-told-you-so’ primed and ready to go whenever.” He says simply, and she shoves him off the bed.

 

*

 

            She plots a course for the Citadel when she finally admits she can’t avoid talking with the salarian councilor any longer, then goes to talk to Javik.

 

            “Commander.” He grunts without turning around, and she rolls her eyes.

 

            “Let people announce their presence first, Javik. You’re not going to make many friends convincing people you have a fifth eye in the back of your head.” She replies, crossing her arms.

 

            “‘Making friends’ is not my purpose here. Also, I feel the need to wash my hands. The residue of this ship is strong.” He says, and she raises an eyebrow.

 

            “How so?” She asks, tilting her head.

 

            “I have been exploring. There are traces of those who lived on the Normandy before.” He explains, “I detected a human female. Her genetic structure was unnatural, as if artificially created.”

 

            “Sounds like Miranda.” She says, nodding.

 

            “And a drell. There was…” He pauses, like he can’t quite translate the sensation, “Illness in him.”

 

            “Thane.” She supplies.

 

            “And the krogan who lived in these quarters. He was undergoing a… metamorphosis.” Her eyes widen, and if that’s his word for puberty does that mean Protheans were born as caterpillars? Oh god, not asking is going to test even her iron willpower.

 

            “His memories were confused… not organic to his mind. There was great confusion and turmoil.” He finishes, and she has to admit, she’s impressed.

 

            “Even after all this I still have trouble wrapping my mind around that.” She says, “Reading information like you do. It’s one thing for you to send me a single emotion, but knowing that much just from the traces they left behind?”

 

            “For my people, it was as natural as breathing.” He replies simply, and she wonders again what a culture shock waking up must have been.

 

            “Evolution’s an amazing force.” She nods, leaning her weight to the side.

 

            “Our scientists believed it was the only force in the galaxy that mattered. They called it the ‘cosmic imperative.’” He looks down at the floor before looking back up again, “The strong flourished. The weak perished. The governments of your cycle seem concerned with ensuring the survival of all.”

 

            “It’s the duty of the strong to protect the weak.” She argues, “Otherwise we’d have anarchy.”

 

            “But those who had nothing to offer would be eliminated.” He countered, like that was a good thing.

 

            “So conflict should be a way of life?” She asks, walking over to one of the basins to stare at her reflection.

 

            “Evolution demands it. The strong grow stronger by dominating the weak. It is for the greater good of all.” _Is that why your people were wiped out? So the Reapers could grow stronger? Because evolution demanded it?_ Her mind whirls with questions, dissecting his words, trying to pinpoint where in them Javik ends and his pain begins.

 

            “Though I do not think your asari approves of my beliefs.” He mutters.

 

            “Liara? I think she just had a different idea about what Protheans were like.” It comes out a little confrontational, but she’s protective of Liara, and trauma response or no she doesn’t want him hurting her.

 

            “We are all a product of our time.” He says, an olive branch, “Had I been born in this cycle, perhaps I would be the noble scholar she wishes me to be.” She snorts.

 

            “You think you’d like that? It’s a whole different line of work.” She replies, smirking slightly.

 

            “I wouldn’t know. Living a life of constant war, taking life every battle…” He murmurs, and the smile slips off her face.

 

            “I can see how it would be tough to see outside the box.” She says softly.

 

            “It is the only ‘box’ I have known. It shapes me. As stone is shaped by the one who carves it. The stone has no choice in the form it will take.” He says, and yet again she privately thinks them not dissimilar. She thinks of being raised on warship after warship, her mother telling her tales of great battles every night as bedtime stories, and wonders if there was ever even a chance for her to become a scientist, or a dancer, or a doctor; she finds it impossible to imagine.

           

            “You and I, Commander… war is our sculpture. And we are prisoners to its design.” He says, echoing her thoughts.

 

            “Maybe not much longer.” She finds herself saying, “We win this, and we’ll both be set free.” He doesn’t respond, and she walks up to place a hand on his shoulder.

 

            “Javik, we’ll both be free soon. That’s a promise.” She repeats, and his four eyes meet hers.

 

            “Do not make promises you cannot keep, Commander.” He replies, talking into the small space between them.

 

            “I never promise things I can’t follow up on, Javik.” She pauses, stares at the half eclipses that are his eyes, “And I promise, we’ll both see peace if it kills me.” Silence, then a hum.

 

            “You will hardly be there to see if you are dead.” He replies, lip twitching, his fangs peeking out for a split second.

 

            “Then I guess I’ll just have to live.” She shrugs, and he nods.

 

            “I will hold you to those words, Commander.” He replies, and she smiles.

 

*

 

            The Citadel’s on fire, this time literally instead of figuratively, so she does what she does best, grabs two teammates and goes to kick ass.

 

*

           

            “Are you alright? Your body language indicates contemplation.” EDI asks, making Shepard jump five feet in the air. She’s about to assure EDI she’s fine when-

 

            “In my cycle, it is said the Reapers took this station in a matter of hours. To see the inhabitants fight back gives me pause.” Javik replies, and Shepard freezes.

 

            “You are welcome to share your feelings.” EDI offers, and to Shepard’s endless surprise Javik actually responds.

 

            “There is hope for those living now. There was none for my species. That is all.” He says simply and falls quiet again.

 

            (And while at the time she’s too busy trying to process Javik actually sharing his feelings, with a synthetic no less, later she will realize that may have been the first time he’d ever said ‘there is hope’ and meant it.)

*

 

            “Are you serious Javik? You got a concussion because you didn’t wear a seatbelt?” She hisses, over EDI’s concerned inquiry regarding medigel, squished up against him behind a pillar for cover, and overloads the barrier of a nemesis who’s gotten too close for comfort.

 

            “You were about to plummet from the vehicle in your stupidity! I could not drive and ground you while strapped in place!” He snaps back, headshotting a guardian through the mail slot on his shield.

 

            “Well, what else was I supposed to do? He was- ATLAS!” She curses, yanking Javik back as a projectile whizzes past their position, “EDI, watch your six!” The Atlas shoots at EDI, and Shepard realizes with overwhelming relief it was her decoy.

 

            “We’re getting your concussion looked at by Dr. Chakwas when we get back,” Shepard says with finality, rolling to her left to take cover behind a car.

 

            “The doctors of this cycle are useless, they would not know my carapace from my elytra.” He grunts, and Shepard freezes mid-warp.

 

            “Your what? _”_ She asks, incredulous, swearing when another shot from the Atlas flies over her head. She finishes her warp, shooting viciously at the glass, grinning when it finally shatters, and one well-placed shot from behind them kills the pilot instantly.

 

            “If you two are _quite_ done,” EDI says, making them both jump, “I would rather make it out of this encounter with you both in one piece.”

 

            “I’m sorry,” Shepard says, bulldozing over her, “Your _whats?”_

 

            “His head ridges and wings, Shepard,” EDI says easily, holstering her weapon, and Shepard just gapes.

 

            “You- you have _wings?”_ She squawks, and Javik has a look on his face between horror and resign.

 

            “Perhaps.” He says, then proceeds ahead without her.

 

            “Wait- Javik! You have _wings?”_ He’s saved from answering by the elevator.

 

*

 

            “So,” She says later after she drags him down to the Med bay, “Wings, huh?” She hears his exasperated rumbling purr and Chakwas’ curious hum.

 

            “Yes, Commander, wings.” He replies curtly, glaring at her over Dr. Chakwas’ prodding.

 

            “Don’t suppose you mind showing them off? For science?” All the grace of a bull in a china shop, if Chakwas’ flat look is anything to go by. Javik stiffens, glare intensifying, and a stony silence follows.

 

“No, huh?” She asks, disappointment clear, and he gives an annoyed rumble. The silence continues, but eventually he sighs. He holds his hand out, and she comes closer, allowing him to touch her forearm.

 

*

 

            _The planet looks remarkably similar to Eden Prime, and above her -above Javik- several Protheans hover, zipping from one place to the next, carrying various forms of supplies. Their wings look similar to those of the Collectors, but, now that they’re on Protheans and not their husks, they look beautiful rather than terrifying. All the ones she can see flying have subtle differences from Javik. The ridges of their throats are a paler red, their carapaces not dipping as far down their faces, and their eyes appear to be closer to orange._

 

_She hears gunshots and Javik looks swiftly to the right, where two are engaged in aerial sparring, dodging and whirling gracefully through the air past one another’s particle rifle shots. There is a discontent in Javik’s chest, and when she focuses on it she realizes it is vague envy, a desire to join them._

 

*

 

            “Only the females of our species could fly.” He explains as he lets go, and she realizes belatedly he’s saying it out loud for Dr. Chakwas’ benefit, instead of just sending her the idea via touch, “We have only elytra, which are too stiff to allow for flight. The females have a secondary pair which grants them their aerial capabilities.” He pauses, as if he’s unsure whether or not to share the next part, “Males only show their wings for medical care, or as part of courting rituals.” Shepard stares for a moment, and even Dr. Chakwas has paused her scanning.

 

            “So, all the Collectors who could fly were females?” She wonders aloud, and he tenses, looking away.

 

            “If you make such a distinction between the husks of your species, then yes.” He grits out, and she winces.

 

            “Point taken,” Shepard says easily, “Sorry for asking, then.” She thinks for a moment, “Don’t suppose you’d mind telling Liara?” He snorts.

 

            “Anything I wish the entire galaxy to know of Protheans I tell the asari. Otherwise, I find it best to keep her ignorant.” He replies, and Dr. Chakwas chuckles.

 

            “I don’t know Javik, she can be good with secrets,” Shepard says, eyes bright with mirth, and he gives her what is quite possibly the flattest look she’s ever seen.

 

*

 

            Thane dies. That she makes it in time is a cold comfort, that his last words were a prayer for her makes it worse.

 

            She thinks of the file in the Shadow Broker’s lair, _viable for transplant, refused,_ and wishes, perhaps selfishly, she’d convinced him to accept.

 

            Another friend, lost to the sea.

 

*

 

            “I’m sorry about Thane,” Liara says in the mess hall when they return to the Normandy, and of course she already knows; the infamous assassin, dead at last, what agent of the shadow broker wouldn’t want to be the one to give the news? She hears the room hush, and just shakes her head. Garrus puts a hand on her shoulder, and she covers it with her own, before heading to the cargo bay.

 

*

 

            They sit in silence, neither speaking. She fiddles with some of the objects lying about on the floor, a rifle mod, a polishing rag; he doesn’t scold her for it.

 

            “Thane died.” She says finally, turning the mod this way and that, examining it.

 

            “Commander,” He begins, seems to hesitate, and a hand is placed on her shoulder. _A wash of anger at the injustice, he’d been there, seen what Leng had done. A wash of resolution, another death to fuel his hatred of the Reapers, to make them pay for what they have done. A wash of admiration, for Thane’s bravery, for fighting even in his condition._ She absorbs them all, relaxing marginally and giving a weak smile.

 

            “Thanks.” She pauses, “You’re surprisingly good at this, for someone who said befriending people isn’t his purpose here.” A joke, a deflection, but he takes the bait.

 

            “In my cycle, morale was vital. When one fights inevitability, all that keeps one going is hope. As Commander, it was often my job to ensure those below me sustained that hope, even when all evidence told them not to.” He explains, and she nods.

 

            “Not inevitable anymore,” She replies, “Or not yet, at least.”

 

            “No.” He agrees softly, and they sit in silence for a long while.

 

*

 

            It takes an embarrassing about of time to get around to contacting the Migrant Fleet. In the meantime, she scans sieged systems for resources to keep her mind off Thane and Mordin.

 

            When she finally does make contact, Javik catches her on her way to the war room.

 

            “These Quarians are the ones who created the geth synthetics?” He asks, and she nods. “Then I wish to see them for myself.”

 

            “I’m not letting you in unless you agree to behave.” She turns to him, crossing her arms.

 

            “I always ‘behave.’” He replies, and she snorts.

 

            “Uh-huh.” She says, but hears EDI’s announcement the Admirals are on board and sighs, “Just, try to play nice, okay?”

 

*

 

            He behaves for all of ten seconds.

 

            “Seventeen days ago, with precision strikes on four geth systems, the Quarians initiated the war to retake our homeworld.” Admiral Gerrel says.

 

            “The Reapers invade the Cosmos as we speak, and you choose _now_ to start this war?” Javik asks from where she’d strategically had him stand towards the back, accusation and disbelief mixing together, and Shepard pinches the bridge of her nose.

 

            “And who might this be?” Admiral Raan asks.

 

            “More like _what_ might this be?” Admiral Gerrel interjects, and Shepard sighs.

 

            “Someone who _said_ he’d behave.” She says, glaring at him.

 

            “I am known as Javik,” He replies, “A Prothean.”

 

            “A _what?”_ Admiral Koris asks in disbelief.

 

            “Look, can we do introductions later? If he can’t keep his mouth shut he can leave, otherwise he’s just… curious, about your people.” She says, and they seem to hesitate.

 

            “The Reapers will destroy us all if we do not stop them, whether you stand on a planet or a ship will be irrelevant.” He grunts, glaring, and she makes a mental note to never allow him back into the war room when _politics_ are going on.

 

            “Well, I for one, agree with him. This is a foolish war, especially considering the larger threat. Not to mention these attacks were a clear violation of our agreement with the Council to avoid provoking the Geth.” Koris says, first to recover, and Javik’s presence quickly fades into the background.

 

*

 

            “I do not trust them, Commander.” Javik mutters on their way out, making her snort. “It would be wise to seek more reliable allies.”

 

            “Javik, if we recruited people based on who you trusted our assets would reach a grand total of zero.” She replies, flat.

  
            “Do not hold yourself in such low esteem, Commander.” He says easily, a glint of mischief in his eyes, “Surely you are worth more than zero.” She freezes, staring at him.

 

            “Did you just-?” She asks, but he just keeps walking, either unaware or uncaring she’s stopped. The Ensigns watch them curiously, so she continues walking to avoid prying ears. “Javik, did you-”

 

            “You will take me with to the dreadnaught, I assume?” He interjects, and she opens and closes her mouth.

 

           “I- yes, but-”

 

            “Good.” He nods, “Killing synthetics is always a pleasurable pastime.” And with that the elevator closes in her face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know if the summary is misleading, I can't quite decide what I want to do with it.


	3. Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also known as character growth like whoa chapter

 

            The bridge collapses, they fall, and she feels a splitting pain up her right flank. She hisses, grabs her side, hears Legion’s _Shepard-Commander, we can only launch from the upper level,_ and rises to her feet; it’s fire and hell around them, but she’s not about to die from friendly fire. She stumbles and curses.

 

            “Shepard, are you alright?” She hears Tali gasp, and the world quakes again.

 

            “Fine,” She snaps, “Get to Legion.” She withdraws her hand, noticing with mute dread the black is soaked through around something shiny, and realizes some of the debris must have impaled her on the fall. She runs up the ramp, adrenaline overruling the pain.

 

            “Double time, people!” She calls, approaching Legion with overwhelming relief. Tali and Javik are close behind, both with concerned eyes on her, but she waves them off. Not two seconds later, however, there’s a sudden explosion, the pain in her side erupting as she’s launched into the air with a scream. She hears someone shout _Commander!_ as her brain fuzzes around the edges, but she does her best to ignore it. Instead, she scrambles for purchase as she activates her mag boots in the sudden zero gravity. She manages to explain the situation to Joker, staring briefly in horrified fascination as drops of her own blood float in the air before her. Shaking her head again, she tries to will away the fuzz. Noticing the fighter jet, she collects the remainder of her energy to jump towards it, despite her wound screaming.

 

            “Shepard-Commander, are you alright?” Legion asks at the same time she collapses into Tali’s arms.

 

            “I’m fine, go!” She snaps, fumbling for medigel, but her hands are unsteady and she’s losing strength.

 

            “Shepard, what happened?” Tali asks in alarm, supporting her, gasping when she notices the metal embedded in Shepard’s side.

 

            “Landed on something, when-when I-” Tali accidentally shifts her, making her cry out, when a hand reaches out to latch onto her arm. A calm, numbing sensation spreads up from the wound, making her sigh in relief.

 

            “Find her medigel.” She hears Javik instruct from somewhere behind her, vaguely feels Tali grabbing at her side as her own hand falls away, “Synthetic, do your fighter jets carry cloth of any kind?” She hears Legion’s distressed beep.

 

            “No, these jets are not equipped to give medical care to organic beings.” He replies, and Javik mutters something she doesn’t catch.

 

            “Quarian, you must remove the shrapnel, or the medigel cannot take effect.” Javik says, hisses something about the inferiority of primitive medicines, and if her tongue weren’t so heavy she’d ask where he read up on these things.

 

            “But- but I-!” Tali squeaks, and Shepard’s eyes grow too heavy to keep open.

 

            “If you do not, the Commander will likely bleed out before we reach the ship!” Javik snaps, “Unless you wish her death to be on your hands, you will do as I say!”

 

            “How? Do I-do I just yank it out? Oh, keelah…” Tali croaks, shaking.

 

            “You are not familiar with human first aid?” He asks, sounding pained.

 

            “Why would I be? I’m Quarian!” She replies, but before it can escalate Legion interjects.

 

            “We may be able to be of assistance. In our time of studying organic life, we felt it important to-”

 

            “Do you know how to clear the wound or not, synthetic?” Javik snaps, non-existent patience worn thin.

 

            “Yes, we-” The voices begin to fade around her, but she feels strangely at peace, like the pain and shock simply aren’t there. Then the fighter jet jolts, throwing Javik and Tali off her, and the pain all comes back at once. Her hearing returns and she vaguely registers screaming; It takes her a moment to realize it’s her own.

 

            “What happened?” Tali shouts, panicked, “Did she land on it? Legion, did I do something wrong?”

 

            “Unclear, please specify the-” The numbness returns before Legion can finish the sentence, and she slumps, quiet.

 

            “What is the Shepard-Commander’s status? Why has she gone silent?” Legion beeps, actually turning to look, “Is she alright, Creator Zorah?”

 

            “She is fine,” Javik interject, “Please continue instructing, our time is limited.”

 

            “You’re… doing something to her, when you touch her. How are you doing that?” Tali murmurs, sounding awed, and Javik gives a rumbling growl.

 

            “Now is not the time for explanations! Extract the metal, Quarian!” He orders, and it finally goes blessedly dark.

 

*

 

            She wakes up to an aching pain in her side and an intense conversation beside her.

 

            “-medical benefits would be-” One voice says.

 

            “I do not care how my abilities would be of use to your kind, asari, and I have no desire to partake in any such experiments.” Another grinds back.

 

            “But we’re not just talking about my kind, we’re talking about the entire galaxy! We could help _millions_ of lives!”

 

            “How many primitives are saved is of no concern to me.”

 

            “Unless, of course, that primitive is Shepard, then suddenly you’re spilling all your secrets just to make her comfortable.” She finally turns to open her eyes when she hears a third voice to her left, and sees Garrus leaning against the door frame to the med bay, arms crossed. There’s a short, tense silence, before a human torso blocks her view.

 

            “Good to see you among the living, Commander.” Dr. Chakwas’ voice says from above her, and she turns to her right to verify it was, in fact, Javik and Liara who had been conversing, both standing by her bedside.

 

            “Good to be here, Doc. What was this about helping millions of lives?” She asks, and Liara jumps at the opportunity.

 

            “Tali told me Javik used his sensory ability to take away your pain, but he won’t explain how it works or if we can replicate it to help our soldiers.” She says quickly, “Maybe you can talk some sense into him.” Shepard looks up at Javik, who stares resolutely in the direction of the AI core, and places a hand on his arm curiously. She waits, as does it seems the rest of the room, but he gives no indication of explaining.

 

            “Javik.” She says in exasperation, and he gives an annoyed growl.

 

            “During Connection, experiences are transmitted through connection to the brain.” He grits out, “With training, we are capable of using this connection to cease all signals of pain traveling from an area of the body.”

 

            “So, you can… regulate someone’s nervous system?” Liara summarizes, sounding a little horrified, “But doesn’t that mean when you’re sensing things from people, you have some control over them?”

 

            “Your experiences are held within your brain, asari. To touch it is to control it.” He glares, and the room is silent.

 

            “Huh.” Shepard says, “Well, I’m not complaining. You saved me a hell of a lot of pain back there.” She winces when Dr. Chakwas prods at her injured side. “Easy, Doc. It’s still tender.”

 

            “Something tells me you’ve had worse.” Chakwas shoots back, and Shepard chuckles, wincing again when the laughter pulls at her wound. The pain vanishes suddenly, and she relaxes. Dr. Chakwas frowns, looking at her omnitool, over to where Javik’s placed a hand on Shepard’s shoulder, then back again, but remains silent. No one says anything for a while, and when it becomes apparent Javik isn’t going to elaborate further Liara sighs.

 

            “Maybe it’s… for the best.” She says reluctantly.

 

            Garrus stands upright, shaking his head, and takes his leave, Liara eventually following. Chakwas returns to her chair, busying herself with a datapad, and Javik remains by her side, hand on her shoulder, until she falls asleep.

 

*

 

            It takes a few days to recover, during which time various crewmates come to keep her company. Tensions brew over the Quarians’ decision, but as none of the Admirals have been on the Normandy since before the mission no one has really gotten a chance to confront them over it.

 

            She’s already prepared to do the inevitable damage control; the instigator just ends up being someone she wasn’t expecting.

 

*

 

            She gets off the comm with Hackett and Anderson, side still aching, when she hears the shouting start.

 

            “-were not yet clear of the ship-” Javik is rumbling, an agitated purring sound, voice heavy with rage.

 

            “We were NOT going to waste such an opportunity! This is war, three soldiers are not worth more than the destruction of the geth dreadnought, _and_ you escaped unharmed, so I see no reason-” Admiral Gerrel is cut off by Javik advancing and pinning him to the wall, forearm across his throat.

 

            “The Commander could ensure your cooperation by force if she so desired, yet instead she offers her assistance, and you show your gratitude by firing upon the ship with us still inside?” Javik snarls, his teeth bared, the ribs on his throat flaring, and the Admiral makes a choking sound as Javik’s arm begins to cut off his air, “What would you have done had she died of her wound? Were I in charge, I would have you flain alive for such incompetence, and throw your corpses to the machines to do with as they please!”

 

            “Alright, Javik, that’s enough,” Shepard says, catching everyone’s attention. Javik looks up to her as she walks down the steps, agitated rumbling increasing, but when she raises an eyebrow he lets go and steps back. Gerrel coughs, grabbing his throat and stumbling a bit. The rest of the Admirals look vaguely shaken, and she sighs.

 

            “Go.” She orders, placing a hand on Javik’s shoulder. He grabs her arm, sending waves of furious indignation her way, “I’ll take it from here, we can talk later.” He shoots a glare in Admiral Gerrel’s direction, and opens his mouth to protest.

 

            “That’s an order, Javik.” She says, stern, and there’s a short, tense silence. Eventually, after one more agitated rumble, he gives a reluctant nod.

 

            “As you wish, Commander.” He grits out, stepping back and glaring at them all one last time before stalking out of the room. There’s a short, tense silence, before Tali breaks it.

 

            “I… can’t say I agree with his methods of expressing it, but I share the sentiment. Firing on us was unacceptable, Admiral.” She says, and Shepard nods.

 

            “Javik’s got a temper, but he shares my thoughts. This is exactly the kind of shortsighted, bloodthirsty behavior I was worried about.” She crosses her arms, and prepares to argue with a brick wall.

 

*

           

            “I told you we should not have trusted them, Commander. They are not even united within their own war; how can we expect them to follow us with loyalty?” Javik says when she joins him in the cargo bay, glaring down at his reflection in the water.

 

            “The Geth just acted in self-defense in the Morning War, they don’t deserve being attacked like this. Some Quarians see that, and it makes them hesitate. Hard to be united in an unjust cause.” Maybe she's biased, and she doesn’t care, “We’re not going to have that issue with the Reapers.”

 

            “They are machines, Commander, they do not ‘deserve’ anything.” He grits out.

 

            “Not all machines are evil, Javik. You can’t let the Reapers color your entire perception.” She says softly, knowing she can’t win this but wanting to plant the seed anyway.

 

            “But some _are_ dangerous. And the Geth are working with the Reapers. Why did you allow one on this ship?” He turns to her, radiating agitation, and she sighs.

 

*

           

            She’d be lying if she said she was anticipating the plan Legion comes up with to take down the fighter squadrons, but she trusts him. She sees Javik tense beside her, but he makes no verbal protest, and the plan is set into motion.

 

*

 

            They end up not even needing their guns, quick as Legion is to clean the enemy geth out, and an emotion dangerously close to maternal affection wells up inside her.

 

*

 

            She stumbles out of the interfacing pod, barely worse for wear, Javik placing a cautionary hand on her chest to balance her as much as fish for her mental stability.

 

            “I’m fine, Javik.” She grunts, allows him to prod her brain if only for his peace of mind.

 

            “You do not feel as the Zha’til did.” He admits eventually, relief coloring his voice, and she grins, looks over to Garrus, who nods at her.

 

            “Never doubted you for a second, Shep.” He says (lies through his teeth), and she laughs.

 

            “More importantly, did it work?” She asks, glancing over at Legion.

 

*

 

            They go to save Admiral Koris, who she really never anticipated liking after their run-in a few years ago getting Tali’s name cleared, but far be her from looking a gift horse in the mouth.

 

            A mine goes off under her feet and Javik snaps a quick _Are you hurt?_ that has Tali looking at him in shock.

 

            “He… cares about you.” She says, sounding genuinely surprised, “I mean, I sort of wondered when he basically attacked Admiral Gerrel but-”

 

            “You didn’t hear this from me,” Shepard replies conspiratorially, “But he cares about the whole team. He’s just got the emotional competency of a dead varren.”

 

            “My lips are sealed, Shepard,” Tali nodding very seriously, before she pauses, “I doubt anyone would believe me, anyway.”

 

*

 

            They go in to shut down the reaper base, only to discover it’s an actual Reaper. She realizes with grim determination what she needs to do as the comm chatters in her ear, and she takes a deep breath.

 

            “Legion, pull over.” He does as she asks, but before she can jump out a hand grabs her arm.

 

            “Where are you going?” Javik grinds out.

 

            “Someone has to lock target on that thing.” She replies quickly, checking to make sure the targeting gun is still working.

 

            “I have already told you suicide is not the goal, you crazy human!” Javik hisses, and they really don’t have time for this. She tries to rotate her wrist out of his grip, but he holds tight.

 

            “If we run away the Geth stay under Reaper control and the Quarians are dead. This ends now.” She says, looking over at the Reaper that has yet to get back up.

 

            “If you perish here our cause is lost. Let them die, Commander.” He snaps, looking frantic. Tali protests beside him, but Javik makes no sign of noticing.

 

            “There’s more to this galaxy than your goals, Javik.” She hisses, “Sometimes the collateral damage it too big to ignore. It’s long time you started worrying about someone other than yourself.” She’s furious for so many reasons, but they don’t have the time to talk about it, not now. Instead of a reply, however, a foreign emotion washes over her, all-encompassing and mind-numbing: a fear that weakens limbs and gnaws at hearts. It takes her a minute to realize it’s not her own, that Javik is sending it.

 

            “It is _you_ I am worried for. If there were a single time my words should not fall to deaf ears, let it be now: Do. Not. Do. This.” He’s practically begging, at this point, and neither Tali nor Legion make a sound.

 

            “This is something I have to do, Javik.” There’s a long, tense moment, but he must sense her determination, because his grip weakens just enough for her to slip free.

 

            “Just return to us.” Is all he manages, and she nods, hopping off the vehicle.

 

            “Shepard-Commander, good luck.” Legion says, and she would definitely face a Reaper alone for this robot.

 

            “Acknowledged.” She replies.

 

*

 

            Legion dies. It hurts, maybe even worse than Mordin or Thane, on the maternal level that weeps for a lost child who won’t get to see the sunlight after the darkness.

 

            But the Quarians and the Geth have made peace, are willing to help and heal, and she thinks Legion would likely have done it over again a hundred times, even if it meant never seeing the harmony he worked so hard to create.

 

            Tali is in awe, at least, even if she, too, mourns Legion. And Javik just follows, quiet, placing a hand on her arm.

 

            “The Legion synthetic would be pleased with these results, Commander.” He says, “Perhaps even… joyous, if machines are capable of such things.” He’s pushing, just to make her feel better, and likely saying it out loud for Tali’s benefit. It makes her heart swell, and she gives a soft, sincere smile. Tali clears her throat, and they both look over to her.

 

            “You are both welcome- more than welcome- back here, once this is all over with. We can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for us, even though you thought we didn’t deserve it.” She says softly, and Shepard smiles.

 

            “I’d love to visit, Tali. I’m glad it all worked out, even if I did it more for the Geth than the Quarians.” She pauses, “But don’t tell Javik, he’ll blow a gasket when he learns I’m a no-good robot sympathizer.” She hears Javik’s agitated rumble and grins.

 

            “I am already aware of this fact; however I applaud your tact and subtlety in keeping the information from me.” He mutters, and Shepard laughs.

 

            “Alright, Javik, go wait in the vehicle, we’ll only be a second.” She says, and he nods, withdrawing his hand and walking off.

 

            “I wish I was more offended at your blatant favoritism, but after everything? I can’t say I blame you.” Tali says, and Shepard snorts.

 

            “I’m not playing favorites, his fighting style just works well with mine, and it’s good to have a prothean viewpoint when fighting these things.” She defends, arms crossed.

 

            “I was talking about your favoring of the Geth, but alright,” Tali replies, and Shepard blinks.

 

            “Oh.” She says, and they fall into silence. Tali turns to the horizon.

 

            “Shopping for another house?” Shepard asks, watching Tali stare into the sunset.

 

*

 

            She’s been meaning to stop back in on the Citadel anyway, so the asari councilor’s invitation is a perfect excuse to go.

 

            She takes care of some errands before heading to the embassies, shooting straight up to Udina's office to get the info she’d been offered.

 

            She’s walking back to the elevator when she notices Javik standing there, staring out over the passing cars as if hypnotized. She walks up beside him, looking down.

 

            “Hell of a view, isn’t it?” She prompts.

 

            “During our war, this place became a myth to my people. A dream glimpsed only in the memory shards.” He says, sounded humbled and awed. “The Citadel was both the heart of our civilization and its demise.”

 

            “The Reapers hit here first, didn’t they?” She asks, heart aching.

 

            “No one I knew had ever seen the Citadel. To be here now… I don’t know what to think.” It’s not exactly an answer, but she rolls with it anyway.

 

            “Might not seem like much, but a Prothean is standing on the Citadel, alive. That’s a victory in itself.” She replies, looking over and touching his arm. It’s a silent invitation to feel her sincerity, her pride in him; an invitation he doesn’t take.

 

            “Perhaps,” He says instead, “When things were at their darkest, we used to tell stories, imagining the wonders of this place. The seat of our empire… the power to sway worlds. The galaxy belonged to us.” She winces internally as the imperialism she’d been trying to shoo off creeps back in, and nips it in the bud.

 

            “Nowadays, lots of races have embassies here.” She reminds him.

 

            “It’s true then? You share power with the rest?” He asks in disbelief. She nearly tells him they’re actually the most recent addition, nowhere near the top of the food chain, but appreciates the implication he finds humanity the strongest, so she holds her tongue.

 

            “It’s not perfect, but it keeps the peace. Most of the time.” She replies. He turns, having noticed something, and she sees the hanar approach them.

 

            “Pardon me. This one has been listening. This one suspects you are a Prothean.” _Oh boy_.

 

            Javik touches the hanar, fishing for something, and she gears up to the usual Javik Damage Control, just in case.

 

            “A hanar. I remember when your kind were still minnows in the ocean.” He says.

 

            “This one is unworthy! This one has seen the face of an Enkindler!” The hanar cries.

 

            “They consider your kind to be their gods.” She explains.

 

            “A pity we did not teach them to speak better.” He mutters, and she kicks him in the shin, which he willfully ignores, as usual.

 

            “You’re really a Prothean?” An Asari asks, wringing her hands, and a Turian turns around not much later. _Please let this go well, oh please-_

 

            “I am.” He says, but the usual glint of mischief in his eyes is absent.

 

            “But… if you lost the last war, what hope do we have?” The Asari asks, taking it in stride; Shepard doesn’t know whether they’re extremely astute or extremely gullible to just believe him.

 

            “For many, there may be no hope. The Reapers killed trillions in my cycle, the odds of them-” And it’s time for that damage control.

 

            “Uh, I don’t think that’s gonna work.” She whispers, pleading with him to not crush these poor people’s hopes. He pauses, looks down, before continuing.

 

            “But you are still alive now.” He says, turning to them, “That alone is a miracle. And you still have the power to fight. My people knew your kind when you were young. Turian, Asari, Hanar- there was potential in all of you. Now you must seize that potential and become the weapon you were meant to be- the weapon that tells the Reapers we are not machines. We are alive. And we will fight back!” They do not hear the echo, but she does, and she places her hand back on his arm without even thinking about it.

 

            “Thank you, that meant a lot.” The Asari says, and he nods. She seems to notice the hand, and addresses her, “Commander Shepard, it must be an honor to have a Prothean fighting alongside you.”

 

            “He’s starting to learn his way around.” She teases, twinkle in her eye, “Javik is one of the best soldiers I’ve ever seen.”

 

            “The Commander is a capable warrior as well.” He says, pauses, “For a human. Who once lived in caves.” She grins at him.

 

            “Thank you, Commander. I have enjoyed my time here, walking among the… young.” He says, and her heart swells at the promotion from primitives.

 

            “Your time’s not up, follow me.” She says, nodding goodbye to their little crowd and pulling him by the arm to the elevator. He follows willingly, still not initiating Connection, and she lets him be with his thoughts. They get in and she pushes the button going to the presidium commons.

 

            “You weren’t meant to just be some weapon, you know.” She says, and when he remains silent she continues, “Being a fighter is in your blood, only takes one look at you in action to see that, but you’re not just some weapon people can deploy whenever they want. You’re more than that, even if you try to hide it, and no one can take that away from you, not even yourself. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met, Javik, in more ways than one. Don’t reduce yourself to some object, not when you deserve so much more.” She looks at him again from where she’d zoned out briefly, mouth on automatic, and finds him examining her.

 

            “Your idealistic view of the cosmos will get you killed one day.” He says finally, though his mind seems to be elsewhere.

 

            “Oh, go fuck yourself.” She mutters as the elevator chimes. They step out and into the presidium.

 

            She walks him over the bench overlooking the water, notices Liara leaning on the railing. Liara takes one look at them, smiles, and takes her leave.

 

            “Beautiful, isn’t it?” She says, staring out over the sparkling blue.

 

            “Indeed.” Javik agrees, turned towards her, and she hums.

 

            “I always wanted to live here, ever since we came when I was a kid to restock on supplies. Maybe after the war I’ll bunker down, find a nice apartment.” She glances at him from the corner of her eye, curious if he’s willing to play along.

 

            “Commander, I have not been... entirely truthful about Prothean culture.” Javik says instead, and she snorts.

 

            “Javik, I’d be surprised if even ten percent of the things you told us were true.” She replies, mirth in her voice.

 

            “Your faith in me is truly inspiring, Commander.” He mutters, and she laughs.

 

            “Okay, okay. What misinformation do you want to correct?” She looks over at him curiously, and he remains silent for a moment.

 

            “In my cycle, when one made a promise it was custom to promise something in return.” He explains, not meeting her eyes, and she raises an eyebrow.

 

            “What if you had nothing to promise?” She asks.

 

            “Then- you would promise something small, insignificant. To take one of their watch shifts, or to buy them a meal.” He pauses, “When you made your promise, to see us both to peace, I did not promise anything in return.” _Ah_.

 

            “I made that promise because I wanted to, and I meant it. You don’t owe me anything in return.” She assures, before realizing he might actually feel better if he _does_ promise her something, and adds, “But if you really want to, that sushi place has been looking tantalizingly good.”

 

            “It is dangerous to allow someone unfamiliar to touch your food.” He replies with a frown, and she rolls her eyes.

 

            “Fine, be that way, but we’re going eventually. You deserve a luxury meal, and the only thing I’m aware you eat is fish.” She says, and he tenses.

 

            “I do not eat fish.” He protests immediately, and she snorts.

 

            “You’re as subtle as a brick, Javik. You eat fish.” She shoots back, and he glares.

 

            “I do not- You are distracting me!” He says, glaring, “Let me finish!”

 

            “By all means.” She replies, and he sighs.

 

            “I wish to make you a promise in return, Commander.” He says, and she nods.

 

            “Alright, what do you want to promise?” She asks, tilting her head. He’s silent for a surprising amount of time, looking out over the waters, before speaking.

 

            “You have connected your mind to the indoctrinated machines’, you have fought a Reaper on foot, and both of these things you have done alone. My promise is never again. Where you go, I follow, Commander Shepard.” He says turning to her, “And in return, you promise you will show us both to peace, a galaxy free of the Reapers. These are the promises I offer to exchange.” She stares, speechless, to the point where he seems to lose his nerve and looks away.

 

            “Javik, I-” She’s not sure what to say, “Thank you. I’ll make sure we both make it out of this in one piece.”

 

            “See that you do.” He replies with a nod, entire form relaxing.

 

            “Really, Javik, thank you.” She repeats, smiling at him, and for quite possibly the first time since she’s known him, he gives a smile in return.

 

*

 

            (“I wish to live somewhere warm.” He says on the elevator ride to the docks, and she looks at him, “Perhaps Ilos, I would find the irony… amusing.” She hums.

 

            “Wherever you want, Javik. And who knows, if Ilos’ weather is good, maybe I’ll join you.” She replies, and he gives a rumbling purr she thinks sounds amused, but doesn’t know for sure.)


	4. Avatar of Victory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shell'ling is an affectionate nickname parents give their young since I headcanon Protheans hatched from eggs

 

 

            Retrieving the Prothean artifact from Thessia goes to hell in a handbasket before they’ve even left the damn Normandy, and Shepard wants to be surprised.

 

            Instead, she just snags Javik on the way down to the shuttle bay.

 

            “Liara’s coming with, there’s Reapers on Thessia.” She explains, walking briskly, and Javik matches her pace.

 

            “She may become a liability, if she cannot keep her emotions in check.” He warns, and she sighs.

 

            “If you want to try talking her out of it, be my guest.” She replies, grabbing her weapons.

 

            “A fair point.” He admits, “She is more stubborn than a vanksher who has been told to relinquish his parnaps.”

 

            “I get the sentiment but be aware the reference has passed completely over my head.” Is all she says, joining Liara where she waits impatiently for Cortez to finish prepping the shuttle.

 

            “For someone who has the power to create peace between synthetics and organics and assist in curing a once thought incurable disease, there is a surprising amount which passes over your head.” He responds easily, and Liara looks at them both, raising an eyebrow.

 

            “Don’t worry about it.” Shepard says in lieu of an explanation.

 

            “Of course,” Liara replies, looking about as convinced as Joker had when Shepard insisted a Cerberus AI helping him pilot the Normandy was a good idea.

 

*

 

            They watch Thessia’s destruction from the screen on the shuttle, and her heart aches with sympathy for Liara.

 

            “Your empathy is a weakness. You must numb yourself to this.” Javik says, and she watches Liara tense. Shepard glares at Javik, who notices and frowns, glancing between them. She walks over, placing a hand on his shoulder. He hesitates, before grabbing her arm, sending what he’s trying to say.

 

            _The familiar pain of watching thousands die before your eyes, the knowledge you must push the pain back or it will crush you, the gruesome truth of the fact that compassion in war will only grant you misery._

 

            “I know it hurts,” Shepard paraphrases, “Hell, I understand better than most. But you gotta stay strong, you can’t help anyone if you let the pain break you.” She glances at Javik, curious if he wants to take credit for the words, but he just looks away.

 

            “That is easier said than done.” Liara, murmurs, eyes glued to the screen.

 

            “After this is over, we’ll mourn every single damn asari who gave their lives here,” Shepard promises, “One day you’ll be able to grieve, but for now we can’t afford to do it without risking more lives.”

 

            “You’re right, Shepard,” Liara sighs, “You always are. I just can’t believe the Reapers could be this heartless.”

 

            “Their indifference is what gives them power.” Javik replies, but Shepard shakes her head.

 

            “No,” She says, “It’s exactly the opposite. You ever faced a soldier who’s fighting to protect who and what they love? There’s nothing more terrifying. If we win, it’s going to be because so many people faced impossible odds to fight for the people and things they care about.”

 

            “And what do you fight for, Shepard?” Liara asks, eyes looking a little desperate.

 

            “Peace, a future without all this death.” She pauses, thinks, “And some promises I’ve made, along the way.” She shoots Javik a grin, who stares at her with an unreadable expression.

 

            Then the shuttle lands, and it’s time to fight.

 

*

 

            They’re about five artifacts into looking for the beacon when Shepard realizes Liara’s about to blow a fuse and she’s going to have to intervene.

 

            “Javik,” She says finally, “I appreciate what you’re sharing, and for the record find it fascinating, but maybe not the time, place, or people to do it with?” She hears Liara huff but remain silent.

 

            “I only speak the truth.” He insists, stubborn as always.

 

            “I don’t care if you’re speaking the damn justicar code ad verbum, there’s this thing called ‘being vaguely aware of social cues’ and I think you’d benefit from it.” She replies, glancing around in increasing desperation for the artifact they need.

 

            “You mistake my blatant disregard for ignorance, Commander.” He shoots back, and she really does not need this right now.

 

            “Javik, I swear to god-” She starts.

 

            “If you swear to the asari god, you are swearing to the Protheans.” He interjects like an actual child, and she lowers her gun with an exasperated noise.

 

            “I really can’t take you anywhere, can I?” She mutters, and he snorts.

 

            “You take me everywhere.” He points out, “The number of missions you have gone on without me can be counted on one hand.”

 

            “Your hand or mine?” She snaps back, for no other reason than to be petty.

 

            “This conversation is going nowhere.” He says instead of answering, and she’s about to make a scathing comment about evading the question when he plows on, “This war will be lost if the Reapers harvest us both while we stand here arguing.”

 

            It’s then that Shepard notices the statue behind a gob-smacked Liara, and she pushes past her.

 

*

 

            “Listen to the human,” Javik insists, “She can be trusted.” and Shepard holds her breath.

 

            “I detect you are one of us.” The VI says, turning to him, “You are Prothean.”

 

            “The last.” Javik says solemnly, “I am the final hope to avenge our people.”

 

            “Your mission was known to me.” The VI says, and Shepard blinks in surprise, ”Do you believe this present cycle can deliver retribution?”

 

            “They have earned the right to try.” Javik argues, and Shepard snorts despite herself; Javik’s confidence in her has always been inspiring.

 

            “‘Try’ is insufficient. Relinquishing this data ensures the Reapers shall learn of it by the next cycle terminus. It cannot be risked for ‘try.’ Systems shutting down.” She panics, opening her mouth to protest, but Javik beats her to it.

 

            “They are led by their own Exemplar, and victory is within their sight. By withholding the identity of the catalyst, you destroy any hope of their success.” She and Liara both stare. The VI seems taken aback by this too, if its short silence is anything to go by.

 

            “Who is their Exemplar? What trait do they stand for?” The VI asks, sounding skeptical. Javik shifts his eyes to her.

 

            “She stands before you, their Avatar of Victory.” The VI turns to her, and she’s not sure what to say.

 

            “You? You are the Avatar of Victory?” The VI asks, and she swallows, wanting to play along but unsure how.

 

            “I… guess? We don’t… exactly… have exemplars, but I’m trying my best.” She tries, winces when she realizes she might have just screwed their chances.

 

            “Of course you do not, you are not Prothean. But our own exemplar has claimed you to be, so I am led to assume you have adequately earned the title?” The VI clarifies, and she opens and closes her mouth.

 

            “She has performed the actions of an exemplar. She has brought together a formidable army of different races, all united under the single purpose of annihilating the Reapers. If anyone is capable of defeating them, it is she.” Javik insists, while Shepard and Liara stare.

 

            The VI examines his features, “You seem certain.” It’s as much a question as a statement.

 

            “We have exchanged vows of death,” He glances over at her, “I am certain.” There’s a silence, long and telling, during which the VI seems to debate.

 

            “Have you exchanged wings?” It asks finally, sounding more curious than anything else.

 

            “When this war is over, perhaps.” Javik hedges, looking to the side. At long last the VI nods.

 

            “Very well. Exemplar, if you have followed the plans for the Crucible I shall interface with your systems and assist with the Catalyst to-”  The VI is cut off by the arrival of the person she quite possibly hates most in the entire galaxy.

 

*

 

            She fails. Leng takes the VI and she fails, and she ignores Liara’s soft insistence it’s not her fault.

 

            She sits in silence with her head in her hands on the shuttle ride back, until suddenly she feels a hand on her shoulder.

 

            “Don’t-” She starts, but he ignores her protests.

 

*

 

            _She stands outside the ruins of a city, one that reminds her vaguely of Feros, in all its crumbling glory._

 

            _“You fight a lost war, Javik, it is impossible to win them all.” A voice says from beside her- beside Javik. Javik snarls, punches the wall beside him, feels the pain in his knuckles with almost a sense of relief._

 

_“Besting the impossible is what it means to be an exemplar.” He hisses, voice pained._

 

_“You are not a god, my son, yet you fight devils. Every victory is a miracle, every loss an opportunity.” She feels a hand wrap around Javik’s knuckles, “Learn from this, and carry the knowledge with you after your slumber. Build our empire anew with the lessons pain and sacrifice have taught you.” Javik looks up finally, into the orange eyes of another Prothean, and nods._

 

_“Yes, mother.” He replies, still sounding defeated, but Shepard feels the hope rekindling in his stomach._

 

*

 

            Shepard remains silent for a long while after she is lurched out of the vision, and Javik sends no more via Connection.

 

            “Your mother was wise.” She says finally, softly, an olive branch.

 

            “She was.” Javik agrees, removes his hand, “Take her wisdom, as I have.” Liara looks at them both, lost, and Shepard almost feels guilty.

 

            Almost.

 

*

 

            She waits a day to ask Javik about what he’d said to the VI, partially because she’s still hiding from her own failure and partially because she’s not sure how to phrase the question. The words had sounded suspiciously sincere, but they’d also been said in a desperate attempt to convince the VI to aid them, so she can’t exactly hold him to them. Vows of death sounded ominous, and sharing wings sounded… beautiful, but vague and very much alien to her.

 

            She can hear the shouting as soon as she exits the elevator to engineering, and rushes to the door.

 

            “Those were all lies back there!” Liara snaps, pacing, and Shepard realizes with dread what this is about.

 

            “They were not.” Javik replies, annoyance in his tone.

 

            “My people weren’t animals for your kind to experiment on!” She continues to pace, working herself up, and Shepard can’t say she blames her for her anger.

 

            “You wanted to know more about your history, asari. Now you do.” He grinds out, even less tactful than usual; it vaguely occurs to Shepard it’s because he’s getting defensive, like he isn’t exactly proud of the information he’s shared either, like he knows Liara isn’t wrong.

 

            “I have a name! It’s Liara T’soni, and I’d appreciate you using it from now on!” She snaps, biotics glowing, and Shepard needs to diffuse this, fast.

 

            “Hey, settle down!” She grabs Liara by the shoulder, pulling her back.

 

            “My home was just destroyed… and all he can do is gloat!” Liara hisses, glaring at him.

 

            “Given what’s happened today, I think you owe Liara an apology, Javik.” Shepard says, glancing over at him with stern eyes.

 

            “Apologize for the truth?” He asks, crossing his arms, and she nearly rolls her eyes; how old is this absolute child?

 

            “For not doing more! You’re a prothean! You were supposed to have all the answers! How could you not stop this from happening?” Liara accuses, and Shepard looks at her in surprise, not expecting this turn. She realizes Liara’s finding someone to blame. A common mechanism for coping with grief, or so the Alliance had taught her during her course on team morale and dealing with loss. This… complicates things.

 

            “We believed you would.” He replies, sounding almost defeated, and Shepard’s not sure who to defend, “Long ago we saw the potential in your people. Even then it was obvious: the wisdom, the patience. You were the best hope for this cycle. So you were… guided, when necessary.”

 

            “Well it didn’t work.” Liara says softly, stepping back.

 

            “You’re still alive, aren’t you? Your world may have fallen, but as long as even one asari is left standing, the fight isn’t over.” He replies.

 

            “I guess that goes for Protheans, too.” Liara murmurs, hears the echo for what it is.

 

            “Despair is the enemy’s greatest weapon. Do not let them wield it,” He approaches her, leaning in, “Liara T’soni.” Pride bubbles up in Shepard as she watches Liara give a flash of a smile before leaving.

 

            “That was… unexpected. Thank you.” She says, means it.

 

            “We still need her talents. If grief overcomes her, she will be lost to us.” He replies, folding his arms, and she walks up to forcibly unfold them.

 

            “Oh no you don’t, no throwing up those walls. You said something kind to make her feel better, no take-backs.” She says, looking up at him, daring him to try and just shut her out. He makes a frustrated purring sound, looking away.

 

            “The loss she has suffered is one of the greatest there is, greater for one so young. She must be guided through her grief if she is to come out in one piece.” A deflection, but he’s no longer trying to back down, so she’ll take it.

 

            “I think losing Thessia felt like losing her last connection to her mother.” Shepard admits, looking back at the door, “One of the reasons it hit her so hard.

           

            “Even I was fully grown before my mother was lost to me.” Javik nods, and she glances at him.

 

            “I lost my dad when I was young. It hit mom pretty hard, and we still miss him sometimes.” She says, “It’s a pain you never get over.”

 

            “Your mother still lives?” Javik asks, looking at her.

 

            “Yep. Hannah Shepard, she’s helping with the Crucible. Apparently, the first thing she said when she saw it was ‘My husband wouldn’t be impressed.’” She laughed softly, “Honestly, I think you’d like her. Always thought dad and I were too soft for our own goods. Used to say that every once in a while, you just gotta shoot someone to get things done,” She grins, “She still insists I got my bleeding heart from him.”

 

            “I do not think anything describes you as well as a ‘bleeding heart.’” Javik nods, “Your mother is far wiser than you. I should like to meet her, after this war.”

 

            “Oh definitely, she’ll love you, you’ll be one of the family inside an hour.” She chuckles at the picture, both of them sitting in the starboard observation deck complaining about all the times she’d risked her neck just to save a few people. “You can bond over your mutual hatred of my peaceful ways and kind actions.”

 

            “I believe my mother would have rather enjoyed meeting you as well.” He says, a smirk on his face.

 

            “Oh?” She asks, raising an eyebrow.

 

            He touches her arms and she is elsewhere.

 

*

 

              _“Every life matters, Javik. I raised you better than to speak so callously.” Shepard looks through Javik’s eyes at a hologram of another prothean, whose arms are crossed, a frown deep on her face._

 

_“This is war, mother, casualties are to be expected.” He grits out, annoyance clear in his voice._

 

_“I do not care if you ‘expect’ the world to turn upon its head! Every life has value, Shell’ling, yet you would dare trivialize their loss by claiming them expendable?” She sounds furious, and Shepard loves her already._

 

_“Assisting them in their demands would have gained us nothing, we had no reason to help them.” He insists, and his mother gives an enraged rumble._

 

 _“You had no reason_ not _to help them, you lazy, selfish boy! And now they are dead! I should come to Ak’karr and beat some sense into you myself!” She hisses._

 

_“The journey is far too dangerous on foot, and you own no vehicle. I insist you remain in Rellu’n.” He says, sounding vaguely worried she’ll follow through on the threat. Instead of arguing she just sighs._

 

_“This war has changed you, son.” She murmurs, sounding defeated, “This forsaken Exemplar title has changed you. I only hope you find someone who can pull back from this abyss of apathy, when I am no longer around to do so.”_

 

_“You will always be around to do so,” He replies, “You are far too stubborn for anything else.” And she smiles._

 

*

 

            Shepard comes back to herself with a start, shaking her head to clear the dizziness. She looks up at Javik, who’s looking down at her curiously, hands still on her arms.

 

            “I love her.” She says with a grin, “I would officially give half my vital organs to sit with her for five minutes.” He gives a low chuckle.

 

            “She would certainly be pleased I take orders from one such as you.” He replies, eyes soft.

 

            “Good, because she sounds like the kind of woman I would rather die than disappoint.” She nods, still smiling.

 

            “Commander,” EDI says, making her jump.

 

            “What’s up, EDI?” She asks, looking at the ceiling.

 

            “The asari councilor is on the comm,” EDI replies, and Shepard hesitates.

 

            “Thanks, EDI, I’ll just- go talk to her.” She manages, though she makes no effort to move.

 

            “I suffered many defeats in the last war, Commander.” She hears Javik say, his hand moving to her shoulder, “Let this loss be the fuel that powers your rage.”

 

            “I can’t get through this war on rage alone, Javik.” She replies softly, sadly, “Not forever.” And with that, she walks out.


	5. Of Children and Dolls

            The memories of Javik’s mother serves as a sufficient distraction from her failure, just in a way Javik probably hadn’t intended. She finds herself going back through her belongings, the footlocker where she’s kept various mementos of her travels, and finds what she’s looking for.

 

            She searches the ship for Javik, finding him in the starboard observation deck, staring out into space.

 

            “Upgrade from the life support window, isn’t it?” She hums, and he glances back at her.

 

            “Indeed.” He replies, notices her hands behind her back, and looks up at her curiously.

 

            “Those memories of your mother, I wanted to thank you for sharing them.” She starts, sitting down on the couch and patting the seat next to her, keeping the memento hidden on her other side, “It got me thinking, and I wanted to give you something.” He examines her, moving to her side slowly.

 

            “Were you anyone else, Commander, I would assume this an assassination.” He says, sounding a little wary, and she rolls her eyes.

 

            “I’m not gonna kill you, you paranoid beetle.” She snorts, grinning at the frown he shoots her way, before she settles again, “I just thought they looked like personal memories, and you shared them to make me feel better about my…” She hesitates, not wanting to say failure but unable to find a better word for it, “Well- anyway. I’m still pissed as hell, but we have a lead and I’m gonna make this right, and that’s not why I came here.” She glances at him to see he’s just looking from her to her hand and back again like a child who doesn’t want to give away how eager they are; she almost laughs at the thought.

 

            “When we were hunting Saren I did some exploring, and I found this planet, Binthu. It had a prothean pyramid that hadn’t been scavenged yet, and at the top I found some surprisingly well-preserved artifacts.” She says.

 

            “My people perfected the art of preserving objects once we realized our destruction was inevitable, many put their prized belongings in storage containers that could last millennia.” He explains, gaze not leaving her hand anymore, and she laughs.

 

            “My eyes are up here, big guy.” She says with a grin, and when he reluctantly draws his gaze away she continues, “Anyway, Liara wanted to study what we found, but I kept one on a whim; not really sure why, but it felt like an important memento. I forgot about it, but that memory reminded me so…” She trails off, not really sure how to continue, “I figured you should have it. A thank you for sharing your memories and emotions, and for your promise. Maybe it’ll help give you a reason to fight? Or not, I guess, but I-”

 

            “What do you hold, human?” He grits out, curiosity turned to impatience, and she laughs again.

 

            “Alright, alright, here.” She hands him the doll, a creature she can’t identify, unsurprisingly. It’s worn and missing an eye, but overall in good shape. “There were a couple other toys, but this one was the cutest. Don’t suppose you know what it’s modeled after? It’s not a species that’s still alive.” He doesn’t respond, and she looks up from the doll in his hands to see him watching it, a look of wonder on his face.

 

            “You… found this?” He asks, voice sounding slightly pained, and she frowns.

 

            “I did. I can take you to the world I found it on once the war’s over, if you like.” She hesitates, “What do you think? What creature is it?”

 

            “A Mar’lu. A house pet, before the Reapers came.” He strokes one finger down the doll softly, reverently, “It was a common toy in my time, but I did not expect to see one in this cycle.”

 

            “You like it, then?” She asks, watching him stare at the toy. He doesn’t respond, and she pushes, “It’s in good enough shape, you could probably give it to your kid after this is all over, if you end up having one.” He jolts slightly, looking over at her.

 

            “I am the last Prothean, I am not capable of reproducing.” He says, and she shrugs.

 

            “There’s gonna be a lot of war orphans after this is over, and I’m sure no small amount of them would be hyped to have a hero of the Reaper War as their dad.” She pauses, hesitates over the next part, “And the Asari can mate with anyone. Your kid wouldn’t be Prothean, but she’d have prothean genes.” The thought makes her uncomfortable, advising Javik to shack up with an asari just to reproduce, but it’s probably the only way he’s getting prothean genes into the next generation, barring cloning.

 

            “After the Reapers came, joining with any race besides Prothean became forbidden, a tactic to prolong our inevitable extinction.” He explains, looking back down at the doll.

 

            “Well, you can join with whoever you want, now.” She says with a shrug, watching him pet it absentmindedly, “Reproduction’s a bit of a moot point, even if it’s with an asari.”

 

            “An asari offspring would be part Prothean, at the very least.” He mutters, and she pushes down the pain into whatever hole it crawled out of.

 

            “If asari are your thing, then by all means. Liara’s off limits though, and I’m saying this as a favor to both of you. Too much risk of conflict of interests.” The last thing she wants is for Liara to realize several years in she loves the idea of being with a Prothean and not with Javik. He’s silent, staring at the doll in his hands.

 

            “What of you, Commander? Will you raise young after this war?” He asks finally, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes.

 

            “Not sure. I like the idea of adopting, but the day I push a baby out of me is the day hell freezes over.” She winces just thinking about it, “I’ve already met some orphans I’m keeping tabs on.” He hums.

 

            “Reproduction is not a concern for you?” He looks over at her, tilting his head.

 

            “Nah. Besides, I’m not sure I want to bring a baby into the aftermath of... all this.” She replies, and he nods.

 

            “An understandable reservation.” He agrees, and they share a silence.

 

            “Any asari you got your eye on? Don’t suppose you’ve taken a look at the Purgatory scene?” She says, trying for a joke and missing by a mile.

 

            “I have expressed no interest in asari, you only inferred such from my explanation of my culture.” He replies, “Are all humans so quick to jump to conclusions?”

 

            “Oh, no I-” She winces. Foot, see: mouth, “Well, anyone at all you got your eye on, then? Asari or no?” He chuckles.

 

            “You primitives and your gossip.” He says with a smirk, and she groans.

 

            “Throw me a bone here, Javik, I’m trying to save a conversation.” She says, looking away. She hears his chuckle and turns as he stands back up, doll still in hand.

 

            “My thanks, Commander. This gift is unexpected but… appreciated.” And with that, he leaves her there to realize a second too late he hadn’t answered her question, and she _still_ hadn’t gotten around to asking about the VI’s words.

 

*

 

            It takes a while, but the conversation with Javik helps remind her what she’s fighting for, and pretty soon she’s ready to head to Horizon. She grabs Javik, and is on the way to grab EDI when he stops her.

 

            “Commander, it may be best to consider taking the asari with us,” He suggests, “Often times the best cure to grief is a distraction.” She hesitates.

 

            “I don’t know, Javik. What if seeing war refugees just makes it worse? She’s angry enough as it is.” She says, hand hovering between the second and third elevator buttons.

 

            “It will remind her of what she is fighting for.” He says simply, “She is not the kind who…” He hesitates, “Can fight for anger.”

 

            She glances at him, unsure whether or not to comment on the words, but eventually nods and presses the third floor.

 

*

 

            Liara’s at her terminal when they get there, furiously at work.

 

            “Hey,” Shepard starts, and when Liara doesn’t turn around she continues, “I need you for the mission on Horizon, you in?” Liara looks up at that, starting when she sees Javik behind Shepard.

 

            “Are you sure that is… wise?” She asks, looking back and forth between them.

 

            “It was not a request.” Javik interjects, “The Commander has need of you.”

 

            “Might be nice to get outta here for a bit, see what’s going on personally instead of from your screen.” Shepard tries, and Liara glares at Javik but nods at her.

 

            “If you need me, Shepard, then I’m there.” She says, and Shepard smiles.

 

            “Good. Meet me in the shuttle bay in ten.” And with that, she leaves.

 

*

 

            “You’d make a good parent, you know,” Shepard says easily on the elevator ride down.

 

            “If you say so, Commander.” He replies, eyes lingering on the crew quarter’s button.

 

*

 

            They get to Sanctuary and it’s deserted; her gut screams something is wrong.

 

*

 

            “Yes, this process is known to me. They do not kill what they can use.” Javik says as they watch the feeds, then places a hand on her shoulder, “I am sorry, Commander.” Her heart aches with regrets, and she just shakes her head.

 

“Won’t change the fact we got here too late.” She replies, feels him squeeze her shoulder, but won’t initiate Connection in a war zone. She notices Liara staring at them both, and turns to her.

 

            “You okay, Liara?” She asks, watches Liara open and close her mouth, “I’m sorry, this is probably too much for you right now. It was supposed to help get your mind off Thessia but…” She trails off, guilt in her voice, and Liara shakes her head quickly.

 

            “No- that’s not- I’m not- I’m okay, Shepard, it’s just-” She pauses, clearly at a loss for words, “Thank you, that was very thoughtful of you.” She settles on eventually, and Shepard smiles, looks up at Javik, who looks away.

 

            “Of course, Liara. C’mon, we need to move. Let’s find Miranda and get out of here.” She reloads her gun, shrugs off Javik’s hand, and marches on.

 

*

 

            She goes to see Javik after the mission, curious if she can make him own up to his request of bringing Liara. She walks in to him conversing with Tali, hears _Your sympathy is not necessary, quarian…. But it is appreciated._ And feels her heart warm at how far he’s come. She lets them finish conversing, noticing the blueprints of the Normandy on Javik’s console.

 

            “Looks familiar.” She deadpans once their conversation is over.

 

            “I have been studying this ship, its crew. There was a Normandy before this one. You died in an attack.” He replies, and her heart freezes. This wasn’t something she wanted to discuss with him, considering his hatred for all things synthetic.

 

            “Something like that.” She hedges, not taking her eyes off the screen.

 

            “But then you were resurrected… to fight the Reapers.” He says, like she doesn’t know her own damn past.

 

            “Maybe you and I have a thing or two in common.” She turns to him, and she knows, knows Javik knows, that it’s far more than just ‘a thing or two.’

 

            “But you have something else: the reasons you fight are still alive. The friendships of the people around you. Are they the reason you wish to continue living?” He veers from the synthetic line of thought, thank god, but goes right for the punch.

 

            “My crew has become my family. We’ve stared death in the face more times than I can count. Things like that bind people together in ways I can’t really explain.” She says, thinking of all the times they’ve made it out by the skin of their teeth.

 

            “Yes.” Is all he says, doesn’t expand on her thoughts, doesn’t offer his own; so instead she pushes.

 

            “What about you? I respect your reasons for being here, but I get the feeling there’s something more, Javik.” He glances away, and she follows his gaze to the memory shard.

 

            “What’s in here?” She asks, walking over to it.

 

            “It is called the Echo Shard. Passed from soldier to soldier, Prothean to Prothean. Each adds their memories to it.” He explains.

 

            “Like a beacon.” She connects, eyes fixed on it, “How far back does it go?”

 

            “To a time before the Reapers. It is all that is left of my people.” He says, refusing to face her.

 

            “And you don’t want to remember that?” She asks, turning to him.

 

            “Imagine if everyone you knew was dead. You could not remember their faces, or the color of the sky above your home. The memories were gone… but so was the pain. Would you want to remember that, Commander? Even if it meant watching everyone die again?” She thinks about it, looking back at the shard.

 

            “I would,” She says, facing him again, though he keeps his eyes on the floor, “One day, when this is all over. When there’s time to process the pain, when we can mourn those lost.” She pauses, “But now? No. Doing it now would only hurt.” She waits, lets him process the words, lets him choose how to react. Finally, he gives a mournful rumbling purr.

 

            “Perhaps you are right.” He pauses, “There were others… soldiers who served under me, like your crew.” He says softly, eyes looking past her.

 

            “Maybe one day I’ll get to see them, through your memories,” She replies, “I’m sure I’ll love them as much as I loved your mom.” She smiles at him when his eyes refocus on her, and he gives a soft twitch of his lip, a brief flash of a fang, before it’s gone.

 

            “Javik,” She says, “You’re part of this crew, this family; you’re part of the reason I fight, too. Losing what you did, I’m not gonna trivialize it, but… you’ve got us now, and we’re alive, and we care about you.” She hesitates, “And… I can’t force you to care about us, or make us your reason to fight, but… if you’re ever looking for a new reason, a living reason, we’ll be here. _I’ll_ be here.” There’s a long silence.

 

            “It would seem your kindness holds no bounds, Shepard.” He replies finally, voice so soft it’s almost a whisper, and she grins.

 

            “Well, I have been told I’ve got a bleeding heart.” She responds, cheeky, and he nods before stepping back.

 

            “That you do, Commander. That, you do.” He says, pauses, “Try not to bleed out before this war is won.” And she laughs.

 

*

 

            It’s the final stretch, now. Hackett tells her this is it, the point of no return, that she should finish up any remaining business before they hit Cerberus Headquarters; she doesn’t even think about it.

 

            “The Reapers and Cerberus started this, now we’re gonna end it.” She says, and Hackett nods.

 

            “I’ll get the fleets mobilized.” He replies, and just like that she’s set their fate.

 

*

 

            The good news is there aren’t any nasty surprises until the end, for once.

 

            The bad news is she finally has to face (one of) the (many) issue(s) she’s been avoiding.

 

*

 

            “Shepard, that console has not been fully scrubbed. It contains data you may find… interesting.” EDI says, most of her attention elsewhere.

 

            “What am I looking at?” She grunts, glancing behind to ensure Javik made it up after her.

 

            “Project Lazarus. Your reconstruction.” Well, shit.

 

            Honestly, she’s tempted to ignore it. Javik holds no love for synthetics, and considering her own occasional doubts that still haunt her whenever she’s just a little too strong, a little too fast, he may not take too kindly to the information on the console. He’d already been lenient enough to drop it once, and she doesn’t want to push her luck a second time. The last thing she needs is the team member she relies on the most to begin doubting her right before the final fight. But she wants to know, needs to know, what happened those 2 years, so she clicks the button.

 

            “It can’t be done,” The scientist on the screen insists, “It’s not a matter of resources.”

 

            “It’s _always_ a matter of resources.” The Illusive Man says, “We’re not losing Shepard.”

 

            “Sir, Shepard is clinically brain-dead. After that much trauma, that long with no oxygen… we cannot overcome nature.” The scientist counters, and she shifts uncomfortably.

 

            “Operative Lawson disagrees. She’s now in charge of Project Lazarus.” The Illusive Man says, and the clip ends. The room is quiet, and she realizes vaguely that EDI is also awaiting Javik’s response.

 

            “I didn’t realize it was that bad.” She mutters eventually, in a sort of self-defense, for whatever it’s worth.

 

            “Interesting. It sounds as though your body experienced significant trauma.” Javik says, and both her and EDI jolt slightly.

 

            “Looks like.” She grits out, bouncing on her feet and looking away. Why had she thought bringing him into the heart of Cerberus Headquarters was a good idea?

 

            Oh, right. Because she’d needed him; his fighting style had become almost integral to hers. Deadly for their enemies when they were paired together, deadly for her if she ever had to fight alone. Karma for picking favorites, maybe.

 

            “How does it feel?” He asks, and this is it, this is the test.

 

            “I’m still me. I doubt I’d have been able to turn against Cerberus otherwise.” She’s not sure who she’s trying to convince.

 

            “I don’t remember anything. Maybe they really just fixed me,” She hesitates, “Or maybe I’m just a high-tech VI that thinks it’s Commander Shepard.” She tenses the moment she realizes what she’s said; not the best way to convince someone you’re not a robot. “But I don’t know I-”

 

            “It does not matter.” Javik says, “You are fighting. That is answer enough.” Her whole body relaxes at the acceptance, a weight off her shoulders, and she turns to smile at him. He does not smile back, but his eyes seem to soften, and it’s enough for her to know he’s okay with whatever… she is. She plays the next feed, no longer afraid.

 

            “Tissue regeneration is proceeding. The helmet kept the brain intact… for whatever good that will do.” The scientist says.

 

            “Lawson will find a way.” The Illusive Man replies, confident.

 

            “Sir, Shepard’s an Alliance soldier.” The scientist says hesitantly, “As far as she knows, we’re a terrorist organization.” She snorts.

 

            “I’m not looking for a dance partner. We need Shepard, and Shepard needs resources. She’ll work with us.” The Illusive Man assures, and Shepard grinds her teeth.

 

            “Impressive judge of character.” Javik murmurs.

 

            “Every instinct I had told me not to trust Cerberus.” She grits out, “But I needed their help. So I played along.”

 

            “The past is irrelevant. Stopping him now is all that matters.” Javik insists, and she nods numbly, playing the third entry.

 

            “Project Lazarus is reporting neurological activity.” The scientist says, sounding surprised himself, “They’re requesting more funding.”

 

            “Granted.” The Illusive Man replies, “Get me our potential recruits file. Shepard will be up soon. We need a crew.”

 

            “Our existing forces should be more than sufficient.” The second scientist assures.

 

            “No. We need sympathetic faces. I need Shepard invested.” The Illusive Man counters, “Tap Kelly Chambers. And recruit Donnelly. I imagine Miss Daniels will follow. We’ll want some old friends as well. Contact Dr. Chakwas, and send me the psych file on Shepard’s pilot… along with a bottle of ‘47 Thessia Red.”

 

            “Impressive manipulation technique.” Javik grunts, and when Shepard remains silent continues, “I have always told you, Commander. Your empathy is your greatest weakness, and it was exploited.” She sighs, shakes her head, but finds knows him well enough to not be offended.

 

            He knows, now, and trusts her anyway; and if he can dismiss what Cerberus has done to her, maybe she can too.

 

            “How’s that door coming, EDI?” She asks.

 

            “We are clear to proceed.” EDI replies, and they move on.

 

*

 

            They get the Prothean VI and discover the Catalyst is the Citadel. She’s not even sure how that’s going to _work,_ but she’s gotten this far, and she didn’t do it by questioning ancient prothean artifacts.

 

            (Well, she questions one, quite often, but he’s still standing beside her after all this time, so she figures no lasting damage has been done.)

 

*

 

            (She also avenges Thane, kills the bastard who should have died when Anderson cut his legs off. Javik shoots him in the head afterwards for good measure, muttering about some things being worse than Reapers, and she can’t help but love him a little for it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Javik and Shepard's parental intervention had me laughing a bit, not gonna lie


	6. Sharing Wings

 

            She signals all the fleets to Earth, the poetic last stand, then settles in beneath her sheets with the hope of getting some last-minute sleep.

 

            She’s fifty-three minutes into decidedly not-sleeping when there’s a ping at her door. She sighs, changing into her hoodie and going to answer.

 

            “Look, unless something’s gone critically wrong I-” She freezes when she sees Javik, who’s staring at the far-left wall, hands behind his back, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

 

            “Javik.” She greets, trying to remember the last time he’d come up to her cabin, with or without invite, and comes up with a grand total of zero.

 

            “Commander.” He replies stiffly, and she waits for an explanation.

 

            “Do you… need something?” She prompts finally, and he seems to jolt.

 

            “I- yes, I was hoping to talk.” He answers, and she nods.

 

            “Alright, come on in.” She steps aside, and he passes her, eyes lingering on her fish tank.

 

            “We never did get sushi.” She chuckles, and he turns his gaze to her, “Just another thing we’ve got to do after this war.”

 

            “It may be wise to start a list.” He replies, and she snorts.

 

            He hesitates, before sitting on her couch, and she sits next to him.

 

            “If you wanted to talk you could have just messaged me, I’d have come down.” She says, and he actually manages to tense more.

 

            “It was a... private matter. I did not wish to risk another intruding.” He explains, and she frowns.

 

            “Is everything okay?” She asks, examining his face.

 

            “I am fine, I merely-” He pauses, gives a frustrated rumble, “I wish to-” another pause, “You never inquired over the computer’s words, Commander.” He settles on finally, and she blinks.

 

            “What computer?” She asks, tilting her head.

 

            “On Thessia.” He clarifies, “The virtual intelligence.”

 

            “His… words?” She repeats, before it clicks. “Oh! Right! I forgot about that, I’d actually been meaning to, but there was always an interruption.” She grins, “The toy doll was to butter you up, but then we got started on kids.”

 

            “I-” He hesitates, “Are you no longer curious?” He asks, expression unreadable, and she laughs softly.

 

            “Honestly? I’m dying to know. But I’ve noticed you don’t exactly respond well when I push.” She replies, nudging him gently.

 

            “I… see.” He sounds relieved, but also unsure how to continue.

 

            “What exactly did you mean by vows of death?” She asks, head tilted, and he relaxes a bit.

 

            “Different promises held different… connotations, to my people.” He explains, “Not all promises held them, but the ones that did… could have large implications.”

 

            “I’m guessing ‘vows of death’ were no small thing.” She finishes, and he nods.

 

            “It is a pledge of protection, a mutual assurance that death shall be faced together, no matter the circumstance. It carries the same weight as your human wedding vows, though they are not always romantic in nature. It can be taken between family, or very close friends.” He explains, and she gives a soft _huh._

 

            “That’s… intense, Javik.” She says finally, and he nods, looking away, “That would’ve been good to know.  Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I didn’t mean to imply anything too, uh, forward.”

 

            “It is not always romantic.” He repeats, “It was a… surprise, but I did not mind.” He pauses, “I did not tell you because I… did not wish you to retract the statement.”

 

            “I won’t, don’t worry.” She says easily, “We’re in this together, Javik. The Reapers won’t know what hit them.” He’s silent for a long moment, and finally curiosity gets the best of her. “What exactly does sharing wings mean?”

           

            “To share wings…” He begins, hesitates, “It was done when…” He trails off, unable to continue. The quiet stretches and she frowns.

 

            “Javik?” She asks, placing a hand on his arm, but he gives no response. The silence continues, until he seems to lose some internal war with himself.

 

            “When this war is won, Commander, I shall explain.” He says finally, looking defeated.

 

            “Alright,” She agrees reluctantly, “Don’t make me wait too long.” She watches his face, notices his eyes glance down and his own hand, fingers closed around something.

 

            “Your gift, the doll,” He says, and for a worrying moment she thinks he’s going to give it back, “I never gave you anything in return.” She blinks, stares for a moment.

 

            “You don’t have to-” She pauses, "Is this another Prothean thing?” He nods.

 

            “I do not have many possessions, not after…” He trails off, and she squeezes his forearm.

 

            “It’s okay, Javik. You don’t have to get me anything.” She says, “I know the Alliance isn’t exactly, uh, paying you for this.”

 

            “No money was spent on this, Commander.” He assures, and she raises an eyebrow.

 

            “Please tell me you didn’t steal it.” She replies, flat, and he gives a deep chuckle.

 

            “I suppose you could say that.” He agrees, and uncurls his fingers. Inside his palm sits the memory shard. She gapes.

 

            “Javik, I can’t possibly take something like this! If something were to happen to it I-” He cuts her off by grabbing her hand, placing it inside and curling her fingers around it.

           

            “Then I suppose you will have to keep it safe.” He replies easily. She stares down at it; it’s warm in her palm, though from Javik’s heat or its own source she can’t say.

           

            “Is this something important again? Am I missing something important?” It certainly feels like it, and she turns to him, searching his gaze.

 

            “You are.” He agrees, “But then again, you primitives always seem to be missing something.” He eyes are bright, a soft smile on his face.

 

            “But- you haven’t even read it yet.” She protests weakly.

 

            “Return it when you believe I am ready, then.” He says, and she finds herself nodding.

 

            “Once we’re on Ilos, once everything’s quiet, I’ll give it back. And we’ll face whatever’s on it together.” She replies, resolve steeled, and he hums.

 

            “I have been thinking,” He starts, “You seemed quite pleased with the view on Rannoch.” She stares at him.

 

            “You said you wanted to go to Ilos.” She points out, though she doesn’t deny it.

 

            “It was… pleasant enough on Rannoch. And there will be plenty of weak in need of assistance to keep your ‘bleeding heart’ occupied.” A short silence, “Ilos would have been…” He trails off, “Once the Reapers have been destroyed, it may be best to… fight for the living.” He says no more, but he does not need to.

 

            “Rannoch it is, then.” She agrees softly, “But be warned, I can’t promise there won’t be geth dropping by for visits.”

 

            “I... have faced worse.” He replies reluctantly, and she laughs, clutching the echo shard to her chest.

 

*

 

            It’s time.

 

            She holds the memory shard in her palm, glancing around to see where best to put it. The Normandy’s certainly one of the safer options; if anyone can get a ship out of this fight in one piece it’s Joker. But something in her hesitates, like letting it out of her sight means it’s going to disappear. She walks onto the bridge in full armor, still looking down at it. Joker seems to notice her focus is elsewhere, and glances at her.

 

            “Whatcha got there?” Joker asks, and she’s silent for a moment, before realizing.

 

            “A promise.” She answers, slipping it into a small pouch in her armor, on the opposite hip from Bakara’s crystal, “And a good luck charm.”

 

            “Well don’t lose it, you’re gonna need all the luck you can get.” Joker says, and she gives a grim nod.

 

            “Don’t I know it.” And with that Hackett’s ship comes into view.

 

*

 

            Getting to Anderson is hell. Then they’re at the base and it’s a whole different level of hell, the hell of goodbyes.

 

            It takes a while, James, Kaidan, Garrus, Liara, each making her wish more and more she didn’t have to go out there and risk not coming back, and then she gets to Javik.

 

            “Commander.” He says, watching the horizon.

 

            “Was it this bad in your time?” She asks, head tilted.

 

            “Worse.” He says simply.

 

            “I have been listening to the Krogan speak to his men.” The subject comes a bit out of the blue, and she blinks, “In our cycle, the races never came together. There was no rallying cry.” _Ah._ “I envy you.”

 

            “Really?” She asks, “There’s not much out there.”

 

            “The future is still out there.” He insists, “It is something my people could never say: there will be a tomorrow.”

 

            “Only if we win today.” She points out, because it’s not over yet, not by a long shot.

 

            “No one else has ever made it this far.” He says.

 

            “You came a long way, Javik.” She reminds him, “Further than anyone else here.” It’s the Citadel again, and she knows how to pull him back.

 

            “And I look forward to fulfilling my mission.” He replies, before finally turning to look at her. “But you are now the avatar of this cycle. The exemplar of victory. Not just for humans, or turians, or protheans- but for all life. Every soul that has ever existed is watching this moment.” She gives a soft chuckle.

 

            “Flatterer.” She says, a smile on her face, “You’re giving me more credit than I’m worth.”

 

            “On the contrary, Commander, I do not think I give you enough.” He counters, “But what you have done, what you _will_ do, exceeds any one trait that can be bestowed.”

 

            “No pressure when you put it that way.” She laughs.

 

            “Do not waver. Victory is not won without difficult choices.” Her smile slips away at the words.

 

            “I know.” She murmurs, “I’ve had to make a lot of those.”

 

            “There may be more.” He warns, walking up to her, “But I know you’ll see this through for all of us- no matter the cost.”

 

            “So much faith in me, mister ‘we shall see.’” She says, grinning, and he gives a displeased rumble.

 

            “I did not believe in you then,” He admits, “But I now know I was wrong. You are…” He trails off, eventually offering his hand instead. She looks up at his face, down at it, then grabs it. He tugs at her, pulls her a little closer so he can place a hand on her shoulder, and his thoughts flood her head.

 

*

 

            _Naive, idealistic, easy to manipulate. Too empathetic, too soft, too emotional. Standing by her morals at all costs, unwilling to do what’s necessary, to leave anyone behind. A believer in peace, in understanding, in equality, despite all the darkness in the cosmos proving these things impossible._

_She is the flame, burning impossibly bright, giving hope when there is none, rallying a galaxy around a cause already lost._

 

_They are here now, because of her. They have a chance now, because of her. The cosmos may yet be free, because of her._

 

_The one thing the Reapers did not expect, a willing dreamer in a galaxy of nightmares._

 

*

 

            She just stands there, eyes wide, heart thudding, and looks away from his piercing gaze to the side where a lone soldier stares at them curiously.

 

            “That was-” She opens and closes her mouth, “Javik, I-”

 

            “Since my birth, life’s only pursuit has been war. I look forward to seeing what peace looks like.” He says over her stutters, “I trust you will be there to see Rannoch’s horizon with me.” She swallows, looks back at him.

 

            “You know I can’t promise anything.” She says, finally admits it out loud.

 

            “Do not be foolish, Commander. You already have.” He reminds her, “Either we shall see it together, or neither shall see it at all. It takes more than facing uncertainty to break such vows.”

 

            “You’re one stubborn bug, Javik, I’ll give you that.” She says with a soft smile, “And if we do see it, you’re gonna need a job. No mooching off my retirement fund.” He hums.

 

            “Perhaps I will write a book with the asar-” He hesitates, “Dr. T’soni. She suggests ‘Journeys with the Prothean.’” She blinks, thrown for a loop yet again.

 

            “You’d do that?” She asks in disbelief.

 

            “It is better than standing outside our home begging to be let in when you kick me out.” He grunts, and she pauses.

 

            “‘Our home?’” She asks, and he nods.

 

            “Someone must remain with you and ensure you do not run off to get yourself killed yet again.” He says with a smirk.

 

            “Making sure you get everything sorted out with your little memento is reason enough to stay put.” She assures, patting her pocket. He follows the motion, before looking back up at her.

 

            “You carry it to battle?” He asks, mirth in his voice, “Could you think of no place safer?”

 

            “To be honest I feel like _I’m_ safer with it on me,” She admits, “It won’t stop a Reaper beam, but believing is half the battle, right?”

 

            “If you have taught me anything, Commander, it is how powerful a weapon belief is.” He nods, searches her eyes for something, “Incentive, then,” He says eventually, “To return safely.” She nods, before hesitating.

 

            “What about you?” She asks, “What’s your incentive?” He’s silent for a moment.

 

            “A secret.” He says eventually, eyes bright, before stepping back, “Thank you, Shepard… for letting the last voice of the Protheans speak. It has been a privilege.” She smiles, glances off to the side, noticing with belated amusement the soldier staring, mouth open and weapon lowered.

 

            “It’s not over yet, Javik, not if it kills me.” She murmurs, just a little too soft for him to hear, and goes to continue her goodbyes.

 

*

 

            She gives her team a speech. _Chest pounding. Military jargon._ Mordin had said once, _No offense._

 

            She smiles at the memory.

 

            “Gonna need some help now, Mordin.” She murmurs, looking up at the beam, “I’m in no rush to see you, if you get my drift.” She clutches the memory shard through her pouch, “I’ve… still got some promises to keep.”

 

            She pauses.

 

            “And say hi to Legion, Thane, and Ash, would you? Let ‘em know I miss you all.”

 

*

 

            It’s… slow motion, watching the rover descend on Javik and Garrus. They dodge, and Garrus waves her off, but her heart freezes when she sees Javik wasn’t so lucky.

 

            She gets him to cover, radioing Joker for an evac.

 

            “We’re taking heavy losses up here, Commander!” Joker says through static, but she doesn’t care. There’s a short, tense silence and when she doesn’t rescind the order, Joker obeys.

 

            “C’mon.” She grunts, supporting him and rushing to the Normandy, Garrus right behind, “Here, take him.”

 

            “Commander…” Javik grits out, but she doesn’t want to hear it, isn’t sure she even can.

 

            “You gotta get out of here.” She insists, meeting Garrus’ pained eyes, before looking back at Javik.

 

            “I made a promise, Commander. This is where I belong.” His tone is even but his eyes desperate.

 

            “Don’t argue with me.” She snaps.

 

            “But I can still fight!” It’s the first time he’s actually tried to disobey an order, and it just makes what she has to do harder.

 

            “I need to know somebody’s getting out of this alive.” She says, half a whisper, and she sees the exact moment when the words hit him.

 

            “You cannot- you must- what of Rannoch?” He asks, and she just shakes her head.

 

            “I told you, didn’t I? That I’d show you peace if it killed me?” She replies, because it’s true. Because she’d seen his pain, his suffering, and promised herself there would come a day when he’d smile without the weight of the world on his shoulders, even if it meant she wouldn’t live to see it. The determination must show on her face, because he finally seems to realize this is it, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

 

            “I wished to show you my wings, Jane.” He says, sounding broken, and everything clicks into place far too late. There’s a million things she’d say, if she had time, but she doesn’t.

 

            “I love you.” Is all she can manage, almost takes it back at the wrecked look on his face, but she’s out of time, “Tell Liara to take care of him, Garrus. And make Tali happy, you both deserve it.” Garrus nods, not even surprised by her confession, the bastard, and she nods back, “Good luck.” With escaping, with rebuilding, with finding peace.

 

            “Jane!” Javik cries, reaching out his hand. She almost takes it, too, lets him use Connection to show her whatever he desires, but she turns to see the Reaper readying another beam, and she can’t.

 

            “Go!” She snaps, watches him drop his arm in defeat, and turns to sprint back towards the beam.

 

            She realizes a moment too late she hadn’t returned the echo shard in her haste, but remembers _incentive, then,_ and finds she’s glad she didn’t.

 

*

 

            The Conduit offers her options, insists synthesis is the true answer, control is possible, but destruction will kill all synthetics. She thinks of EDI, of the Geth, of Legion, and begins to walk towards synthesis, before freezing. The echo shard is warm on her hip, nearly vibrating, like the voices inside it are crying out.

 

            “You’re lying, aren’t you.” She realizes, glancing back, “You’re trying to indoctrinate me.” She’s silent for a moment while it sinks in, while she actually thinks about it, “It won’t kill other synthetics, will it? You just want to stop me from destroying you. Synthesis will give you control of organics, and one human can’t control all the Reapers.”

 

            The Conduit says nothing.

 

            She steels her resolve, casting one last glare at the Conduit, and limps to the destroy node.

 

*

 

            She floats, weightless, sees flashes of her memories pass before her.

 

            Her mother and father, life passing from ship to ship. Drifting across the galaxy, even when her father died, and it was just the two of them, mission after mission, battle after battle.

 

            Nihlus, Saren, being chosen as a Spectre. A great honor, supposedly, for all the good it did her.

 

            Feros, Noveria, Virmire, Ilos, geth attacking from all sides. Back before she knew some were different, before she knew they could think, just like her.

 

            Gathering teammates, planning to hit the Collectors. Taking good men and women to certain death, who followed willingly.

 

            Her brief but intense no-strings-attached with Garrus. To help remind her she was alive, not gasping for air in the vacuum of space.

 

            The suicide mission, the Alpha Relay, the invasion of Earth. Watching worlds burn one after the other and being powerless to stop it.

 

            Ashley, Mordin, Legion, Thane, Anderson, all whispering in her mind, accusing her, judging her.

 

            Mars, Menae, Eden Prime.

 

            Javik.

 

            Javik, promising to stand beside her through impossible odds. Javik, calling her the Avatar of Victory with such confidence. Javik, entrusting with her the only connection that remained to his people and his past. How had she never noticed? The signs were there, in both of them. The promise, the doll, Rannoch. When had it started? When-

 

            She floats, and there’s a shore. It’s distant, but she sees outlines of others, though she can’t make out who; she needs to get closer.

 

            A body turns towards her, seashells in hand, and she stares.

 

            A glance down at her hip, a smile, a shake of the head, a mouth moving. _Not yet. One day. No need to rush. Promises to keep._

           

            _Will be here, if you need me._

Something at her hip begins to drag her down, impossibly heavy, chipping away at the darkness bit by bit and pulling her through the cracks. A glow at her other hip lights the way, and the shore slowly disappears.

 

*

 

            She gasps for breath, pain flooding every inch of her body. Figures loom over her, movement and shouting in the background.

 

            One bends down, touching her cheek, and most of the pain vanishes.

 

            “Welcome back, my Victory.”

 

            _Oh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost done! Just the epilogue to go!


	7. Epilogue: Tomorrow's Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and the last bit!

            She sits on the front porch, glowing in the yellows of the sunset, holding little Benezia on her lap, whose eyes flutter, fighting sleep. She watches Liara and Javik outside in the grass, datapads and various archeological finds spread out between them, in a heated exchange over what appears to be some kind of cooking utensil.

 

            “It was not used for any rituals.” Javik grinds out, arms crossed.

 

            “Then why was it unearthed at a temple dig sight among sacred objects?” Liara counters, waving a datapad in his face.

 

            “Because priests require food too, asari!” He snaps, and Shepard snorts.

 

            “But- why would they place common kitchenware among such priceless objects?” She flounders, sounding desperate, and Javik pinches the bridge of his nose.

 

            “If I could tell you the motivations of an aging priest 50,000 years dead I would, but there is a limit to even my abilities.” He says, sounding mentally and physically exhausted, “Just know none of our religious rituals involved anything related to food.” She sighs, defeated, and throws her datapad to the side.

 

            “So much of what we believed, all a complete lie.” She groans, and Shepard chuckles from the side, jostling Benezia, who whines in protest. “And this is only the bits you remember.”

 

            “You were the one who wished to write this book, T’soni, not I.” He says, “I will be able to tell you more once…” He trails off, and Shepard tenses.

 

            “These bits are plenty enough as it is,” Liara replies, faux causal but as tense as Shepard, “There is no need to rush.” But he tries again.

 

            “When I am far along enough in my...” It took Shepard nearly a year to convince him to go to a single therapy session, and another month to get him to go again, and even after all this time with the best therapist out there (found with Liara’s connections) he still refuses to say the word, “Treatment, and I am able to relive my memories, I will tell you more.”

 

            “Of course, Javik.” Liara says with a soft smile, “No need to stuff it all into one book, we can just write another!” Javik seems to realize what he’s done, and groans.

 

            Then Benezia begins to squirm in Shepard’s hold, making grabby hands at her mother, and Shepard rises.

 

            “I think someone wants her mom.” She says, walking over, and Liara grabs her datapads before getting up.

 

            “Of course, thank you for watching her. We should be returning home now anyway.” Liara replies, trying to hold the toddler in one arm and the datapads in the other, when she’s relieved of the datapads by Javik.

 

            “Leave them here,” He advises, “We can continue when you return.” She gives him a grateful smile, before glancing down at the artifacts.

 

            “Remember to be careful when wrapping them, and always-”

 

            “-put them right-side up. We know, Liara.” Shepard says, smiling, and Liara hesitates, before nodding.

 

            “You sure you’re okay in that ship up there? The northern continent is supposed to be pretty brutal, especially during the winter.” Shepard asks, petting Benezia’s head to help calm her.

 

            “The previous shadow broker’s ship endured far worse, this one will be fine. And I have Feron with me, which means I also usually have Kolyat, so there’s no need to worry.” Liara assures, glancing down and around to ensure she hasn’t forgotten something, “It’s actually quite convenient. The storms keep travelers away, and Rannoch is far enough on the Outer Rim for there to be little through-traffic.”

 

            “If you’re sure.” Shepard replies, “We’ll see you soon. And feel free to bring her whenever, she’s a sweetheart.”

 

            “Or you could have one of your own.” Liara says, eyes bright with mischief, “Unless that prothean doll you’re keeping is a present for Benezia.”

 

            “Keep your relationship meddling to Feron and Kolyat.” Shepard replies, hands on her hips.

 

            “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Liara dismisses, “I simply needed Feron to make a covert pickup on the Citadel where Kolyat happened to work.”

 

            “During Kolyat’s shift.” Shepard says flatly, and Liara shrugs, “And the next three shifts after that.”

 

            Benezia’s head rises, groggy, and she shakes it.

 

            “Not tir’d. Wanna play w’t bi’ti’cs.” She whines, grabbing for Javik, who chuckles.

 

            “I’m afraid not today, young one.” He replies, and she pouts.

 

            “Wanna play!” She insists, squirming, and Liara sighs.

 

            “She got this stubbornness from the genes _you_ donated.” She grumbles, trying to rearrange Benezia, who’s not having it.

 

            “You wanted a daughter with a unique genetic background.” Shepard reminds her, trying not to laugh at the scene.

 

            “You also seem to be ignorant to your own obstinance.” Javik points out, and Shepard grins.

 

            “That too.” She agrees, and Liara just shakes her head, before turning and walking to her shuttle.

 

            “Oh, and you should give Garrus and Tali a call!” She calls back, glancing behind her, “Apparently Jona just completed his pilgrimage!”

 

            “We will!” Shepard replies, waving.

 

            She walks back over to the bench once Liara’s shuttle has left, and Javik follows her.

 

            They sit in silence for a while, watching the waves.

 

            “You ever imagine it would end this way?” She asks finally, laying her head on his shoulder.

 

            “I did not imagine they would spend the night, if that is what you are asking.” Javik replies, glancing down at her, and she laughs.

 

            “No, I mean… before everything. Before we beat the Reapers, before you woke up, did you ever think you’d get to just… sit here, and watch the sunset like this?” She clarifies, and he looks out over it once more.

 

            “I would dream of it, on rare nights.” He admits finally, “A peaceful ending with the one I love.” She hums.

 

            “I’ve always dreamed of this kind of peace, too.” She thinks of Thane, Mordin, Legion, Ash, Anderson. Of the nightmares that still wake both of them in the night. Of the memory shard that sits untouched on their fireplace, below where both their armors’ hangs. “It’s not perfect, but it’s ours.”

 

            “We have fought through fire and death to be here, Jane. I would hope it is ours.” He replies, and she gives a soft laugh.

 

            “We have, haven’t we?” She muses, “Sometimes it’s hard to believe it’s all really over.”

 

            “But it is,” He says with finality, “And we are here.”

 

            There’s another long silence.

 

            “If we get one young enough to name, I want to name her Ashley.” She says, and he gives a rumbling purr.

 

            “And if it is a boy?” He asks, glancing down at her.

 

            “David.” She answers simply, and he chuckles.

 

            “Predictable woman.” He teases.

 

            “I could’ve said Thane!” She protests.

 

            “You would not take that from his son.” He replies.

 

            “You know me too well,” She murmurs, not sounding particularly upset, “What about you? Any suggestions?” She waits, as he stares off across the sea.

 

            “A few.” He replies, and she smiles.

 

            “Let’s hear them, then.” She says, and he lists them, one by one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The name Mordin was already taken by Bakara and Wrex's firstborn and I didn't really think Legion a name for a non-robot child which was why I only had her considering the two options.)
> 
> It's finally over! It took so long AAAHHH
> 
> Stay tuned for an alternate epilogue that I loved so much I needed to add as a separate piece~

**Author's Note:**

> Turns out I love Javik more than I love myself and that can turn into a 20k+ rarepair fic that took me a month to finish


End file.
